


Song as Old as Rhyme

by aaronburr



Series: Palaces and Paragraphs [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Alternate Universe - Disney, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Angst, Fluff, M/M, furniture puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-09-18 02:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 36,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9361073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aaronburr/pseuds/aaronburr
Summary: Aaron Burr has always dreamed of exploring the world beyond the outskirts of his small town, but for the time being, his primary concerns in life consist of minding his own business and staying out of trouble. He is rather content with remaining where he is, thank you.Of course, life never works out quite the way one expects it to, and before Aaron knows it, he’s whisked off to a fairytale-esque world of magic spells, talking furniture, and one hotheaded prince named Alexander Hamilton, who—thanks to his own penchant for making rash decisions—is trapped in the middle of a monstrous curse.Perhaps it was the hand of fate, or a work of destiny, that brought Aaron to Alexander’s enchanted castle. Or maybe it was just his horse.





	1. Prelude

Our story begins with a prince.

Said prince—one Alexander Hamilton—lived in a resplendent castle in a faraway land. He was a very intelligent, perseverant young man. His parents had passed away when he was young, so he had resolved to teach himself how to become a worthy ruler.

Alexander read every book in his parents’ grand library that he could get his hands on. He threw himself into his studies with vigor, poring over books of law and economics and history and politics and culture and philosophy.

He would also pay visits to the villages in his kingdom in an attempt to familiarize himself with the people and the issues they faced. He had a particularly potent passion for writing, and very much enjoyed writing out speeches and royal decrees. His servants were the ones who actually gave the proclamations to the villagers, but he would occasionally fantasize about giving them himself. If there was anything he loved as much as writing, it was speaking—to which his servants could, with a mixture of exasperation and fondness, attest.  

Unfortunately, although the prince had several noble qualities, he had—as so many do—numerous faults. One of them being that he was, to put it bluntly, kind of an asshole.

This particular flaw reared its ugly head on a winter’s night seemingly like any other...

Alexander was nestled in his ridiculously oversized armchair (he was of a somewhat diminutive stature) with his nose buried inside a thick book when a knock came at the castle door.

A thin woman stood trembling before him. “Your Majesty,” she said with a feeble curtsy, “My name is Maria Reynolds. I am terribly sorry to disturb you at this hour, but I have been wandering alone in these woods all day. My husband threw me out of the house and I have no place to shelter myself from the cold. I know you are a man of honor. Will you help me?”

“Um,” was the man of honor’s eloquent response. He cast a dubious eye over her haggard appearance—the threadbare cloak, the skeletal figure, the hollow cheeks and stringy hair. She was a mess; she looked pathetic. She seemed more of a phantom than a woman of flesh and blood. And there was something about her beady eyes that unnerved him—they were too sharp, too bright.

Maria, sensing the prince’s hesitation, offered him a beautiful red rose in exchange for shelter. But Alexander, who preferred the hardiness and the subtle aroma of tulips, rejected the gift.

The woman smiled knowingly. “You are repulsed by my ragged exterior. Be not distracted by appearances, O fair prince, for they may deceive you. True beauty is found within.”

Alexander wasn’t too fond of being lectured at, either, so he attempted to drive Maria away.

As luck would have it, Maria was actually a powerful enchantress, and if there was anything Alexander had learned from the fairytales his mother had read to him as a boy, it was that you did _not_ piss off powerful enchantresses and get away with it.

Maria’s tattered cloak melted away to reveal a shimmering dress as red as the rose she held in her hand, and the woman herself grew into a gorgeous, curvaceous beauty with plush crimson lips.

Alexander tried to apologize, but it was too late. Maria knew that his heart was full of selfishness and vanity. She transformed him into a hideous, lion-like beast as punishment. She placed a spell on the castle and its inhabitants for good measure.

Ashamed by his monstrous appearance, Alexander isolated himself within the stone walls of his castle. A magic mirror was the only connection between himself and the outside world.

It turns out that Maria’s rose was also enchanted. If Alexander could learn to truly love someone and earn their love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast forever, and his friends and servants would be trapped in their cursed forms as well.

If the curse wasn’t enough, Alexander’s transformation had robbed him of his ability to read and write. His eyes could no longer comprehend written human languages, and his giant paws rendered him incapable of properly gripping his delicate feather quills. He was left with nothing to do but brood. And, occasionally, vent to his friends about how miserable he was.

As the years passed, Alexander fell into a deep despair, and the kingdom lost its memory of its former ruler. The dark castle in the distance was nothing more to them than a strange-looking mountain.

That is, until one fateful day arrived. The world (or, at least, the kingdom) would never be the same…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: [aaronnburr](http://aaronnburr.tumblr.com)


	2. 1) A Most Peculiar Man

Not too far from the castle lay a small village, and in that village lived a handsome young man named Aaron Burr.

Aaron smiled as he walked outside with his basket. It was a bright, beautiful day—perfect for going on a pleasant stroll through the town. But then again, so was pretty much every other day.

Aaron lived a good life. It was safe and comfortable, which he liked. The problem was that it was so dull, so _predictable_. Small town life was never quite Aaron’s style. Every day was almost exactly like the one before. It was, after all, only a little town; there wasn’t really much that could happen.

For once, it might be nice to break away from the monotony of it all. To go on a real adventure to a far-off place, like the ones he read about in his books. Aaron would often fantasize about sailing off to sea in a majestic ship, surrounded by an infinite expanse of rippling water and a night sky laden with stars. Perhaps he would even come across a mermaid or two on his journey.

But until then, Aaron was content with waiting. He was the one thing in life he could control, and if he wasn’t destined for a life of magic and adventure, then so be it.

At least, that was what he told himself.

He sighed, brushing an imaginary lock of hair away from his face. He was bald.

“Good morning, sir!”  Aaron looked up to see the Schuyler-Bartow couple, Angelica and Theodosia, smiling at him.

He waved a quick hello to them and continued on to the bakery.

“There goes that Aaron Burr,” Theodosia murmured as he passed. “Handsome, isn’t he? It’s a shame that he doesn’t quite fit in.”

Angelica regarded him shrewdly. “There’s no denying that he’s the best-looking man in this village,” she remarked, “but he’s just so _peculiar_. He seems to be an intelligent person, but he rarely ever voices his opinions. One would think he had none at all!”

“He’s always got his head stuck in a book,” Theodosia agreed. “Or in one of those daydreams of his.”

“He really is a funny man, that Burr.”

As Aaron entered the bakery, he was enveloped in the sweet, buttery smell of freshly baked bread and pastries.

“Good morning, Burr!” the baker, Charles Lee, greeted him.

“Morning, Lee,” Aaron replied. He purchased two small loaves of bread, just like he always did.

“Where are you headed off to?”

“Mr. Madison’s bookshop.” Aaron’s eyes shone as he clutched his book to his chest. “I just finished the most heartbreaking story, about a peasant named Valjean who…”

“That’s nice,” Lee said dismissively, for he had no real interest in literature. He turned away to shout orders at his assistant. “Benedict! We need more bread! Hurry up!”

Aaron sighed and left the shop. He continued on his merry way to the little bookstore, doing his best to ignore the curious stares and murmurs around him. It was no secret to Aaron that the townspeople thought him strange, but he tried not to let it bother him too much. “Talk less, smile more” had been his late father’s advice to him, and no matter how lonely or miserable he felt, it was essential that he concealed his true feelings for the sake of preserving his placid and polite façade.

“Ah, Burr!” James Madison, the bookseller, smiled warmly at Aaron as he opened the door to the bookshop.

Madison was perhaps the only person in the village who was actually somewhat fond of the boy. He was the closest thing Aaron had to a friend. He was a shy, quiet man who preferred the company of books to that of people, but he was also capable of being kind and thoughtful.

“Good morning! I’ve brought you some chamomile from my garden. Apparently it’s good for colds when brewed into a tea.” Aaron rummaged in his basket for the flowers. “I do hope that cold of yours goes away soon.”

“So do I. They never really seem to leave, these colds. But thank you.”

“I’ve also come to return the book I borrowed.”

“Finished already?” It was a big brick of a book, with over a thousand pages.

“I couldn’t put it down! A far-off land, daring revolutionaries, a relentless police inspector, a convict in disguise!”

Madison chuckled in amusement. “I trust you weren’t bored by the tangents on French history? Monsieur Hugo seemed to be very fond of those.”

“Not at all. Actually, I found them fascinating.” Aaron paused to examine the shelves. “Have you got anything new?”

Madison shook his head. “Not since yesterday, I'm afraid.”

“That’s all right. I’ll borrow…this one.” He decisively plucked an anthology of fairytales off of the shelf.

“That one? But you’ve already read it twice!”

“I know, but it’s one of my favorites!” Law and history were his true passions, but he loved to indulge in a fairytale every now and then. “It’s just so freeing to get lost in a world so different from this one—to be able to escape. Do you know what I mean?”

Madison didn’t quite share Aaron’s fantasies, but he enjoyed listening to them anyway. “Well, if you like it all that much, you can keep it.”

“But, sir!” Aaron reached into his basket for his coin purse.

“No, no, I insist. Please, take it. I know how much you love your books.”

A grin burst across Aaron’s face—a real one, not the charming yet artificial one he used to be courteous. “Oh, thank you. Thank you so much, James!”

“You’re very welcome. Have a nice day, Burr!”

He walked out of the store with his new book and a dreamy smile on his face.

A small cluster of men watched him as he went.

“Look, there he goes,” John Adams whispered.

“Dazed and distracted, as usual,” James Monroe sneered.

“I wonder if he’s feeling well,” John Jay commented snidely, prompting the men to laugh.

“He’s never part of any group, either,” Monroe observed. “I mean, does that man have _any_ friends?”

“He’s nothing like the rest of us, that’s for sure.” Adams sniffed, seizing his lapels and puffing out his chest in an attempt to look dignified. He only managed to look ridiculous.

Aaron stopped at the fountain in the middle of the town square. It was a beautiful spot, what with the sunlight sparkling on the water and transforming the spray into a myriad of tiny diamonds. It looked almost magical, Aaron thought as he sat down to read.

“Isn’t this amazing?” he said to a stray cat that was poking its nose into Aaron’s basket in search of food. Aaron was too absorbed in the story to notice. “It’s my favorite part because—well, you’ll see! This is where the hero meets Prince Charming, but he won’t discover that it’s him until later on. Exciting, isn’t it?”

The cat, who had no use for fairytales, didn’t care.

_Bang!_

A shot rang out, causing the spooked cat to dart under a nearby vendor’s table. The limp body of a goose plummeted toward the ground.

A tall, thin man scurried over to catch the bird in his bag. “I’ve got it, George! I’ve got it!” he cried.

The goose landed a good six feet away from him. He scrambled to retrieve it.

The man, whose name was Samuel Seabury, turned toward his handsome yet pompous-looking companion, beaming. “Oh, George, you didn’t miss a single shot! You’re the greatest hunter in the whole world!” His eyes were filled with adoration.

“Yes, yes, I know,” George King the Third said breezily, slinging his hunting rifle over his shoulder. To the surrounding villagers, he looked the picture of masculinity and strength. They sighed dreamily. King was merely his surname, but it could have just as easily been his actual title. Nearly the entire village worshipped and revered him, and Aaron was one of the few who was not swept up by his charm.

“No beast alive stands a chance against you. And no person, for that matter!” Seabury gushed.

“Pre- _cise_ -ly, Seabury. And I’ve got my sights set on…that one!” He pointed dramatically at Aaron, who was sitting pretty by the fountain, surrounded by glittering water droplets.

“Burr? The inventor’s brother?” Seabury frowned at this.

“The very one! He’s the lucky man I’m going to marry.”

Aaron, mercifully, was too engrossed in his book to be able to overhear this conversation.

Seabury seemed rather confused. “But he’s—”

“The handsomest man in town. Other than me, of course. And that makes him the best. And don’t I deserve the best?”

“Well, yes, I mean of course you do, but…”

“Ever since the moment I laid eyes on him, I knew he was the one. He is, after all, the only person in this entire village who’s as beautiful as me.”

“But, George. Are you quite certain that a marital alliance with _Aaron Burr_ would really enhance your reputation?”

“How shallow of you! What do I care about such superficial qualities as reputation? All that matters to me is how good he looks.” George checked his reflection in a shop window, causing the people inside the shop to swoon.

“So you’re going to marry him simply because of his looks? Shouldn’t you know more about him first?” Seabury asked desperately.

“Oh, Seabury. What else do I possibly need to know?” And with that, he tossed the gun at Seabury and sauntered gracefully over to the fountain.

“Mr. Burr, sir!”

Aaron, startled, looked up from his book to see George sweeping into an elaborate bow.

“Oh, hello, George,” he replied politely. He bit back a protest as George snatched the book right out of his hands.  “May I please have my book back?”

George frowned at the cover. “Fairytales? Aren’t you a little old for those?”

Seabury snickered.

Heat bloomed across Aaron’s face. “I…suppose so, but they’re actually quite interesting...”

“Well, no matter. Burr, it’s about time you got your head out of the clouds, and out of these books.” To Aaron’s horror, George flung the book carelessly into a puddle of mud. “And start paying attention to more important things—like me. The whole town’s talking about it.”

“Mm. A very important matter of discussion, indeed,” Aaron replied, barely making an effort to veil his sarcasm. He walked over to retrieve his book from the mud.

George sidled up to him, watching as Aaron wiped at the cover of the book with his handkerchief. He shook his head in disapproval. “You shouldn’t waste so much time with all these books, you know,” he chided. “It isn’t right for a person like you to read. Soon you’ll start getting ideas…and _thinking_.” He shivered at the idea.

Aaron’s smile was tight. “George, you are positively primeval.”

George looked positively pleased. “Why, thank you, Burr.” He threw an arm around Aaron’s shoulders, and Aaron tried not to flinch. “Now. What do you say we head over to the tavern and take a look at all my hunting trophies? I can assure you that gazing upon a collection of dead, glassy-eyed animals is far more entertaining than reading some dusty old tome.”

“I…I don’t know,” Aaron said, tucking his book into his basket. “Maybe some other time? I have to get home and help my sister.”

Seabury let out a derisive snort. “Sarah Reeve? Ha! That crazy widow, she’ll need all the help she can get!” He and George burst into a fit of giggles.

Aaron could tolerate people gossiping about him behind his back, but he hated it when they made fun of Sally. His expression grew dark. “Don’t talk about my sister that way, please,” he snapped.

George immediately stopped laughing, turning on Seabury with a glare. “That’s right! Don’t talk about his sister that way!”

“Sally isn’t crazy,” Aaron asserted. “She’s a _genius_.”

“Yes! A genius!” George agreed. He cleared his throat and flashed a charming grin at Aaron. “So. Burr. After you’ve finished helping your sister, perhaps you can make some time in your schedule for me?”

“Ah…yes. Y-Yes, of course,” Aaron lied, managing what he hoped was a convincing smile. He was still terribly embarrassed about losing his composure in front of people.

_Boom!_

A small explosion could be heard in the background, coming from the direction of Aaron and Sally’s house. Aaron winced. “I suppose that’s my cue to leave,” he muttered, turning away.

“Good luck!” George cheerfully called after Aaron as he ran back to the house.

He gazed at the retreating figure, smirking. “You’ll be back…”

If the weather weren’t so pleasant and sunny, a sinister lightning bolt and crack of thunder would have accompanied his threatening words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way! Thank you so much for all the kudos and nice comments on the first chapter! I swear, I had the biggest smile on my face when I saw the email notifications :D I'm glad that people are actually enjoying this so far.  
> Hope this chapter was to your liking!


	3. 2) Sentient Objects and Terrible Puns

The Burr estate was not too far a distance from the main part of the village. It wasn’t the largest of mansions, but it was lovely nonetheless—neat and polished, with a small yet colorful garden.

As soon as Aaron reached the house, he rushed into the basement.

“Sally! Are you all right?”

“Oh! Hello, Aaron!” Sally popped out from underneath her giant machine. She beamed at Aaron, her entire face and the front of her shirt covered in soot. “Just working out a few kinks.”

The machine coughed out a puff of smoke.

“Right.” Aaron gave Sally’s contraption a once-over. It was a wood-chopping machine—very practical for the upcoming winter months. “It looks beautiful.”

“You think so? It’s a bit clunky for my tastes, but if everything goes well, it’ll win me first prize at the fair tomorrow! Would you be a dear and pass me that clencher?”

“Of course.” He handed her the tool.

“Just think!” Sally continued, bubbling with enthusiasm. “Your sister, Sarah Burr Reeve, a world-famous inventor. I’ll be the next Benjamin Franklin—better than him, even! Or, at the very least, people will start to take me seriously for once.”

Aaron’s heart warmed at his sister’s optimism. “I’m sure they’ll love you, Sal,” he assured her, smiling. “You’re the cleverest person I know. You always have the brightest ideas, even if no one else seems to be able to recognize your genius.”

Sally placed a hand over her heart. “Oh, you flatter me.”

Like Aaron, Sally was considered by the villagers to be strange. It was unheard of for a woman to be interested in engineering and mechanics, especially a lady of her status and upbringing. It was very improper for her to soil her dainty hands with oil and grease.

Aaron cleared his throat. “Sally? May I ask you a question?”

“Yes, do. Go on, ask me anything at all.”

“Do you think I’m…odd?” Although Aaron liked to think that he was impervious to the villagers’ criticisms, he was actually quite sensitive and soft.

“ _Odd_?” Sally conked her forehead against the bottom of the machine. She rubbed at her head, frowning. “Now where on earth would you get an idea like that?”

“Well, you know. People talk.”

“Of course you’re not odd. You’re just…unique! Inimitable. You’re an original, a one-of-a-kind.”

“Aren’t those all just nice little euphemisms for the word ‘odd’?”

“Ah…perhaps. But don’t be so hard on yourself. You can’t let those villagers’ view of you determine your own view of yourself! Only you can decide who you truly are. Besides, who cares what they think? You are a noble man—you have Mother’s intellect and Father’s poise.”

“Thank you. It’s just—I wish I had someone to talk to in this village, you know? Someone who could really understand me.” He sighed. “I’m not sure I fit in here.”

“I know what you mean. Well, how about this. After I win that prize money at the fair tomorrow, we’ll take a little vacation, you and I. To the coast, perhaps! I know how much you love the sea.”

Aaron’s face brightened. “Really? Oh, thank you! That would be amazing.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Sally slid out from underneath the wood-cutter. “All right, I think that’s done it. Let’s give it a try.” She pulled a lever on the machine. After a few whirs and a puff of steam, the machine neatly chopped a log in half. The log half flew up to land perfectly on top of the log pile that sat near the wall.

“It works!” Aaron cried.

“It does,” Sally breathed, removing her goggles. “It really does!”

“You did it, Sally! I’m so proud of you.”

Sally grinned at him. “Hitch up William, Aaron. I’m off to the fair!”

-

After Aaron helped Sally to saddle the horse and attach the cart, the two of them said their farewells.

Aaron was especially anxious and apprehensive. Their parents and grandparents had died long ago, and after Sally’s husband had passed away earlier that year, all the two siblings had was each other. It seemed that everyone who cared about Aaron ended up leaving him.

Aaron grasped his sister’s hand. “Be careful out there,” he whispered, feeling tears prick at his eyes. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Sally smiled reassuringly. “I’ll be all right. I can take care of myself just fine out there. After all, I don’t handle all of that heavy machinery for nothing! And I have William to keep me company.” William Peter Van Ness was the name of their horse—a rather elaborate name, but the horse didn’t seem to mind.

Aaron watched as Sally and William sped off into the distance and into the woods that were situated near the village.

 _They’ll be all right,_ he told himself. _There’s nothing to worry about. Just a quick trip through the forest. They’ll be safe._

A few hours later, both the woman and her horse were hopelessly lost. Sally, though a clever inventor, was not the most proficient navigator.

Sally squinted at her map. “Hm…this can’t be right. We should be there by now.  Maybe I missed a turn?” They arrived at a fork in the road, and Sally lifted her lantern to illuminate the sign. The paint on the sign seemed to have worn off, leaving nothing but a blank, useless wooden post. It was terribly inconvenient.

“Uh…let’s see. Let’s go—this way!” Sally pointed to the right path, which was gloomy and overgrown. The left path, on the other hand, was brighter and more inviting.

William gave her a look.

“Come on, William, it’s a shortcut! We’ll be there in no time! I hope.”

And so they traveled down the dark, spooky path, which turned out to be a very bad idea. The trees that loomed over the path were thick and tangled, and a cold wind whistled through the branches. The further they traveled, the denser the foliage grew, until the remaining wisps of light were blotted out.

As the pathway faded out of sight, Sally began to realize her mistake.

“Well, then!” she said cheerfully, trying to distract herself from her fear. “Apparently I was wrong. We’d better turn around and…whoa! Whoa, boy. Look out!” She’d accidentally backed William into a tree, which happened to be full of bats. A swarm of the winged creatures flew at them, shrieking.

William spooked and tore off through the forest, nearly throwing Sally off in his haste. He ended up at the edge of a cliff and would have galloped right over it, were it not for Sally’s quick reaction.

“Whoa!” she cried, pulling on the reins. William skidded to a stop, and Sally watched, heart almost leaping out of her chest, as the cliff edge crumbled beneath William’s front hooves. “Back up! Back up, William! Yes. Good boy. Steady. Steady…that’s good, that’s…” Her voice trickled off as she heard a ghostly howl emanating from the woods behind them. William spooked again. “Hey now! Steady, steady…”

Unfortunately, courage only goes so far, and William’s seemed to have reached its limit. With a fearful whinny, he reared up on his hind legs, flinging Sally off of the saddle. She landed rather painfully on her backside. The horse disappeared into the shadows of the forest, leaving Sally stranded on the edge of the cliff.  

“William!” she called out. No answer, of course. William was gone, and Sally’s invention with him. She could feel the panic closing in.

The howl came again—only this time, it was louder. Several others joined in.

“Oh no…” Sally pulled her cloak more tightly around herself. Her legs shook violently, threatening to give out beneath her as she staggered to her feet. She had nothing with which she could defend herself.

She watched in horror as a pack of wolves materialized out of the forest. They prowled toward her, lips curled back to reveal pointed yellow fangs.

Sally didn’t even think. She ran.

She could hear their snarls and snapping teeth, feel their hot breath on the back of her legs, but all she could focus on was getting away. She ran on blindly, barely noticing the branches that whipped at her face, until the ground gave out beneath her and she found herself half-falling, half-stumbling down a hill. She landed before a tall ironwork gate, which she grabbed and tried to shake open.

It must have been unlocked, for it gave way as soon as she grasped it. She slammed it shut into the wolves’ faces. They growled and snapped at her through the gate, but they couldn’t get through. Sally clapped a hand to her pounding heart in relief and attempted to catch her breath.

And then, as if Sally’s whole ordeal—the fun and excitement of losing her only means of transportation and getting chased by ravenous wolves and whatnot—wasn’t enough, it started to rain. The only source of shelter appeared to be the grim-looking castle up ahead. It was very eerie and foreboding, but Sally was willing to take her chances.

As rain poured from the skies, Sally ran up to the castle and pounded on the door. That must have been unlocked as well; it slowly creaked open to let Sally through. She ventured in cautiously.

The interior of the castle was huge and awe-inspiring, filled with ancient painted tapestries, vast corridors, and rich carpets. But there was a hollowness to it all. It felt lifeless and empty, like a deserted cathedral. A musty stillness hung in the air.

“Hello?” Sally called. Her voice echoed through the cavernous foyer.

She didn’t notice the candelabra and clock sitting on a table nearby.

“Look, Washington!” the candelabra hissed. “It’s a girl! And a beautiful one, at that. Do you think she could be the one?”

“Yes, yes, I can see that it’s a girl. I’m not so sure if _she’s_ the one, though—she seems a bit too old for Alexander,” the clock responded in a deep, stern voice.

Sally’s brow furrowed. “Is someone there?”

“Besides, she’s married,” the clock whispered. “She’s wearing a wedding ring. Now keep quiet, she might go away if she doesn’t see us…”

Sally looked around, searching for the source of the voices. “Please, I don’t mean to intrude! I’ve lost my horse and I just need a place to stay for the night.”

“Not. Another. Word,” Washington warned.

“Of course, madame!” the candelabra piped up. “You are welcome here!” The clock whirled on him, glaring.

“Who said that?” Sally plucked the candelabra off of the table, not realizing that the speaker was, in fact, in her hand. “I’ll thank you to step out where I can see you, please!” 

“Over here!” the candlestick exclaimed.

Sally spun around.  “Where?”

“Here!” He tapped her on the side of her head, prompting her to finally look at him. “Allo!”

“Ah!” she yelped, dropping him to the floor. She peered down at him curiously. “What in the…?”

Washington the clock came waddling over indignantly. “Well, now you’ve done it, Lafayette. This situation could have easily been avoided, and yet you—hey!”

Sally, who was more fascinated than disturbed by the talking objects, had picked up Washington to inspect him more closely. “Incredible! How is this accomplished? Must be some form of advanced technology…”

“I would advise you to put me down at once, madam! I was a venerated general back in my day. This kingdom wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for me!”

Sally set the clock down, startled. “I-I beg your pardon, sir.”

Lafayette hopped over to her. “Please excuse my friend Washington here. He is simply a little, uh, ticked off, and wound up—if you’ll pardon the clock puns.” He winked.

“That’s quite all right. It’s just that I’ve never seen a clock that…ah…ahh…” She broke off with a huge sneeze. The sound reverberated through the room, causing Washington and Lafayette to rattle in place. “Goodness, that was rather loud, wasn’t it?”

Lafayette was all sympathy. “Oh! You are soaked to the bone, madame. Please, come into the den. You may sit and warm yourself by the fire.”

“Thank you.” Sally pulled her cloak more snugly about herself and followed Lafayette into the den. She settled down into the large red armchair by the fireplace.

Washington ran after them. “Lafayette, what in god’s name are you doing? Do you have any idea how Alexander will react when he sees a stranger in his chair? I must send her away. She cannot stay here any longer!”

“Oh, please, monsieur. I know it is risky, but it will only be for a little while. Look at her! The poor woman is ill. We cannot just throw her back out into the cold.” Lafayette lowered his voice. “Besides, she looks perfectly harmless. The odds of her being a powerful enchantress are quite low.”

“That’s what _she_ wants you to think.” He eyed the woman with suspicion.

“Oh, Washington! Have a heart. I’m sure Alex will understand, won’t he?”

Washington closed his eyes. “Alexander is going to tear that woman apart.”

Meanwhile, Sally was having the time of her life. She was surrounded by all these amazing little contraptions with the ability to talk and move around and express emotions. Ah, the wonders of science and technology!

“What service!” she exclaimed as John Laurens the coatrack removed her wet cloak for her. A footstool that had once been Washington’s French hound, Vulcan, propped itself up under Sally’s feet.

“Coming through!” a melodious voice sang out. A teacart zipped into the room, nearly running Washington over.

“Hello! Would you like a cup of tea, madam?” the teapot, Eliza, asked. “It’ll warm you up in no time.” She poured the fragrant, steaming beverage into a teacup.

“Yes, that would be lovely, thank you,” Sally said with a smile. Using household objects as servants? Ingenious! Why didn’t she think of that? She simply must meet the inventor.

“By the way, I adore that dress you’re wearing. I used to have one in that same color.”

“Why, thank you.” Sally glanced down at her pale blue riding habit. She was a little confused as to why a teapot would have a dress, but she didn’t question it. Clearly, this was no ordinary castle.

The teacup hopped into her hand, and she noticed that its small face was dusted with freckles. “My name’s Philip!” he squeaked. “I’m a poet!”

“Hello there, little fellow,” Sally replied, examining the porcelain cup as it enthusiastically recited a poem. It seemed too thin and delicate to have machinery hidden somewhere inside of it. And yet it was just as active and lifelike as the others. Very interesting indeed…

Before Sally could ponder this further, the door to the den slammed open and a roaring gust of wind swept into the room. The fire in the fireplace vanished, and a strange tension hovered over the darkened room like a storm cloud. Philip leaped out of Sally’s hand and back into the teacart to hide behind Eliza. Vulcan darted beneath the armchair, whimpering.

“Oh dear…” Eliza murmured.

A shadowy, hulking figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the dim light. A low rumble like the sound of thunder could be heard as a gleaming pair of eyes pierced through the darkness.

“There’s a _stranger_ here,” the figure growled.

Sally could feel herself quivering uncontrollably.

Lafayette hopped forward. “Ah—yes, yes, very observant, Alexander. Please, allow me to explain. This woman was lost in the woods and needed a place to stay…”

“The last time a strange woman came here requesting shelter, she put a curse on this castle,” Alexander snapped. “And wasn’t Washington supposed to be in charge?”

“Yes I was! And I can assure you that I had _nothing_ to do with this. I was against it from the start. I tried to talk Lafayette out of it, but he wouldn’t listen to my reasoning. You may recall from the accounts of my past military exploits that I am usually quite adept at defending our borders against invaders. But of course, that is rather difficult to accomplish when one’s soldiers are mutinous.” He shot Lafayette a withering look.

Alexander sighed. “Never mind that. You!” His glare was now directed at Sally, who was cowering behind the chair. “Stop staring at me like that. Get up, goddamnit! Who are you? And what are you doing here?”

His face was now visible, and what a face it was. A hideous hybrid of lion and grizzly bear, with a ragged mane and giant fangs. The small, dark eyes glittered with malice and rage.

Sally had a rather unfortunate habit of rambling when she was nervous. “Well, you see, sir, I was lost in the woods on my way to the fair, I made this contraption, you see, a—a machine that chops wood? But then my horse, William Van Ness, ran away from me and these awful wolves started chasing me and if that wasn’t enough, it started raining, and I came upon…your…castle…” Her voice faded away as Alexander advanced on her.

“You are not welcome here.”

Sally backed away. “I’m so sorry, I thought I was! I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t, I swear. Can’t we just talk this out, inventor to inventor? Your contraptions are quite marvelous, I must say. They’re nothing like I’ve ever seen in my life!”

“Inventor? I’m not an inventor. What are you rambling about?” the beast snarled. His fangs glinted like knives in the darkness, and Sally felt a fresh wave of panic wash over her.

“Please, I meant no harm!” she cried desperately. “I just needed a place to stay.”

“I’ll give you a place to stay!” And judging by his angry tone, it wouldn’t be a very nice place.

Before Sally could run, the beast picked her up and dragged her out of the room. The door slammed shut behind them, plunging the den into darkness.

The room was quiet and still once more.


	4. 3) A Tragically Failed Wedding

“That Burr’s going to get the surprise of his life,” Seabury muttered as he and George peered at the Burr mansion through some bushes.

“Indeed.” George’s grin would have put a shark to shame. “Today is his lucky day.” He let go of the branch, which swung back and smacked the unfortunate Seabury right in the face.

George turned to the wedding party, which consisted of a majority of the villagers. They were milling about and snacking on the assorted pastries that Lee had brought.

“I would like to thank you all for coming to my wedding,” he announced. “But, before we begin, I’d better go in there and…propose to the man!”

The townspeople laughed heartily, as though George had made a witty remark worthy of the likes of Shakespeare or Voltaire.

“Seabury!”

“Yes?” Seabury looked up.

“You know what to do, right?”

“Right!” Although Seabury’s main profession was acting as George’s lackey (Not a recommended occupation, as it does not pay very well), he also had a side job as a bishop. The village’s church wasn’t exactly the most orthodox institution, as you can tell. Thus, he was to oversee and officiate the wedding.

Inside the house, Aaron was blissfully unaware of what was about to take place. He was seated comfortably in his blue armchair, absorbed in his new fairytale collection. He had just reached the part about the cursed prince revealing his true form to the hero when he heard a couple of sharp knocks at the door.

Hopeful that Sally had returned home from her journey, Aaron put the book down and ran over to the door. He looked through the viewing device (a fancy little gadget of Sally’s own invention) to see none other than George King standing outside, buffing his fingernails on his coat and looking very pleased with himself. Aaron suppressed a groan and pushed the door open. He tried to focus on remaining cool and cordial.

“Ah, George. What a…pleasant surprise.” He hoped that his smile didn’t look too miserable.

A grin burst across George’s face. “Isn’t it? I’m just full of surprises! Which you’ll discover soon enough.” He barged past Aaron into the house.

“Please, won’t you come in,” Aaron muttered.

George took no notice of his sarcasm. “Burr, there isn’t a person in town who wouldn’t love to be you right now. Because this—” He stopped to admire his reflection in a looking glass. “—is the day your dreams will finally come true.”

“What do you know about my dreams, George?”

“I happen to know quite a bit, actually. Picture this idyllic scene.” George plopped down onto Aaron’s armchair. Aaron tried not to shudder as George propped his mud-caked boots up on the new book. He’d spent nearly an hour trying to scrub off the remaining dirt after it had been so unceremoniously thrown into the mud yesterday. “A grand estate, surrounded by acres of woods. My latest kill, roasting over the fire. My sweet, submissive subje—husband, I mean—massaging my feet, while the children play with the dogs. Oh, we’ll adopt six or seven.”

“Dogs?”

“No! Children, of course. All of them strapping boys—like _me_.”

“I see.” Aaron flinched inwardly at a mental image he got of seven miniature clones of George, all wearing identical smirks. One George King was more than enough for the world.

“And do you know who that husband will be?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Aaron replied, picking up his book and brushing off the dried mud. He placed it back onto the shelf, where it would be safe from puddles and filthy boots.

When he turned around, George was standing right in front of him, cornering him. “ _You_ , Burr.”

Aaron felt the panic rising in his throat. He quickly ducked out under George’s arms, a nervous sweat breaking out on his forehead.

_Stay calm. Stay calm,_ he chastised himself. _Deep breaths. Don’t panic. Be polite._

“Sorry—I just—I-I don’t—” he stammered. He struggled to get away, but the man was relentless. He pursued Aaron until he had him trapped against the door. Aaron gritted his teeth as the doorknob dug into his back. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Speechless, I see! Oh, how adorable.” George leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a purr. “Just say you’ll marry me, Burr. That’s all I need to hear.”

Aaron shrank back. “Please, George, I—I’m flattered, but—” He was tempted to just flat-out reject the presumptuous prick, but he decided to settle for a somewhat more tactful response. “I just don’t deserve you!” And with that, he flung the door open, causing George to tumble out into a patch of mud that just happened to be there. Perhaps it was a form of poetic justice, seeing as how George had thrown Aaron’s book into a similar puddle.

As soon as the door opened, the orchestra started up a lively rendition of the wedding march.  Seabury was humming along, cheerfully oblivious to George’s predicament, until he heard the door slam shut with a loud _bang!_

Confused, he turned around and saw George completely coated in mud. He gasped. The music was cut off. The wedding guests gawked. Someone even dropped their pie slice.

“So…I take it he said yes?” Seabury asked timidly.

The shell-shocked expression on George’s face twisted into one of rage. He grabbed poor Seabury by the neck and dropped him into the mud, seething. “I’ll have Burr as my husband, whether he’ll have me or not! Make no mistake about that.”

He stomped off, leaving the townspeople staring after him.

Seabury sighed as he looked down at his muddied clerical robes. It would take him ages to wash the stains out.

-

Once the noise from outside had quieted down, Aaron cautiously poked his head out the door. “Is he gone?” he whispered to no one in particular. When he saw that everyone had left, he walked out to the garden to rant to himself.  

“Can you believe it? He asked me to marry him. Me, the husband of that boorish, brainless—!” He cut himself off. Being a very well-bred young man, Aaron habitually refrained from utilizing vulgar terms. “Can you just see it? ‘Mr. Aaron King,’ his little husband. I can’t even imagine…” He tried to distract himself with the task of watering his plants. Normally, being surrounded by the fresh, fragrant scents of flowers and herbs helped to calm his nerves, but his heartrate wouldn’t slow down and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Unable to contain himself any longer, he dropped the watering can and ran off into an open field near the house. His racing heart soared as he gazed out at the beautiful valley below.

Aaron wanted—he _needed_ —to escape. For years, he’d been able to wait for it, to just accept what life gave him. But if he were to be honest with himself—really, truly honest—he was horribly discontent. It was as though there were an empty space inside of him. He wished more than anything that he could be _free_. Free from the confinement of the small village. Free from the townspeople’s judgments and critical stares and the snide comments that they thought he couldn’t overhear. Free from this restricting, lonely, monotonous, miserable, provincial life.

Aaron sank to the ground, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. He spotted a dandelion waving around amid the grass. Remembering a tale he’d once read about a boy who had wished upon a dandelion, Aaron plucked it off the ground and blew on it. He watched as the wind whisked the seeds away. They flitted up into the air like small white birds and drifted out of sight.

Aaron’s thoughts were interrupted by a familiar-sounding whinny. He looked up in surprise to see William Van Ness galloping over to him. Sally was nowhere to be seen.

Aaron’s heart became seized with panic. “William? What are you doing here?” He ran to the horse. “Where’s Sally? What happened? William, we have to find her!”

He unhitched the wagon from the horse and leaped onto his back. “Come on, boy! Let’s go!”

William brought Aaron to the castle gate, which was odd, as William had never actually made it to the castle. But that didn’t matter. At least it was convenient.

As Aaron stared up at the gloomy, foreboding castle, a cold shiver ran down his spine. “What is this place?” he whispered. “Where have you brought me, Will?”

William whinnied in fear. He began to rear up, as though he sensed a danger. Aaron dismounted to comfort the horse. “Hey, shhh, steady, boy,” he murmured gently. “It’ll be all right.”

Aaron entered through the gate, which was unlocked again. He gasped as he caught sight of Sally’s blue hair ribbon on the ground. “Sally! She must be in here.” He rubbed the silky fabric of the ribbon with his thumb. “Wherever here is.”

After taking a moment to summon his courage, he tucked the ribbon into his pocket and started for the castle door. 


	5. 4) A Fateful Sacrifice

The heavy castle door swung open to reveal a dimly lit foyer.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” Aaron called out. “Sally? Sally, are you here?” Only silence greeted him. He slowly ascended the staircase in search of his sister.

In the kitchen, Eliza was helping her teacups into a tub of hot water when Philip hopped in excitedly.

“Mama! There’s a man in the castle!” he cried. His siblings peeked down at him over the edge of the tub.

“A man?” Angie seemed doubtful. “Are you sure, Pip?”

“Yeah! He looks almost the same age as Mr. Hamilton! And he’s real handsome, too!”

Eliza was not amused. “Pip, what have I told you about making up wild stories?” she scolded. “Save your imagination for your writing, please. Now, into the tub with you.”

“But I really saw him!” Philip insisted as he was lifted into the water.

Peggy the feather duster burst into the kitchen. “Eliza! There’s a man in the castle!”

Philip popped his head above the water, smiling triumphantly. “See, Aunt Peggy saw him too!”

Eliza was skeptical. “Well, I don’t believe it. There hasn’t been an actual male human in this castle in years!”

Meanwhile, Washington and Lafayette were bickering. Well, actually, Washington was just reprimanding Lafayette while the exasperated candelabra stood there in silence.

“Couldn’t keep quiet, could we? We just had to help that suspicious woman. She could have been a witch, for all we knew, and yet you let her stay—in Hamilton’s favorite armchair, no less! Simply because she happened to wander into our castle. Now Alexander’s in an even worse mood than usual. He shredded up that antique table we got imported from France! I was always very fond of that table…”

“Sally?” Aaron’s soft voice called.

Lafayette perked up. He ran over to the door and poked his head around the corner, Washington following close behind. “It’s a man!”

“It _is_ a man. Hm. Interesting.”

“Hmm…he seems quite young, but not too young for our Alexander.” He leaned forward even further, nearly toppling over. “Doesn’t seem to be wearing a wedding ring, either…ooh! And he’s _very_ handsome.” He gasped. “He must be the one—the person we are waiting for! He has come to break the spell!”

“I wouldn’t be so certain about that. He’s clearly come here in search of that woman. She must be a friend or a relative of his.”

“He is our only hope, Washington. It’s not every day that a human person comes into this castle! Besides, I do not think I can stand being a candlestick much longer. There are many _benefits_ to being human, you know.”

Washington considered this. “Huh…perhaps he can break the spell.” He sighed as Lafayette went to chase after the boy. “Be careful!” he hissed.

Aaron was traveling down a narrow corridor. Lafayette and Washington crept up behind him and eased open the door that led to the tower where Sally was being kept. Aaron turned at the sound of the creaking door. “Hello? Is someone there?” He started up the stairs but was briefly distracted by the strange sensation that someone was watching from behind. No one seemed to be there, so Aaron cautiously continued up the tower. “I-Is anyone here?”  

Sally’s voice echoed from her cell. “Aaron?”

Relief flooded through Aaron at the sound of his sister’s voice. He rushed up to the cell as fast as his legs could carry him. “Oh, Sally! I thought I’d lost you.” He grasped at her hands, which were as cold as ice.

“Aaron, you can’t stay here. You need to leave.” Her tone was urgent.

“Who’s done this to you?”

“There’s no time to explain. Please, go!” She broke off into a coughing fit.

“No. I’m not leaving you!” Aaron held onto her hands even tighter.

He suddenly felt someone grab his shoulder and whip him around. The room was dark, but Aaron could make out the monstrous form of a beast.

“What are you doing here?” the beast barked at him.

“Run, Aaron!” Sally cried, but Aaron could barely hear her.

A hot knife of anger cut through the fear that clouded his senses. This was the cruel monster that had stolen his sister away from him. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“Alexander Hamilton, the master of this castle. Who are you?”

“Aaron Burr, sir.”

“Why have you come here, Mr. Burr?”

“I’ve come for my sister. Please, you need to let her go home. Can’t you see she’s sick? She needs a doctor!”

Alexander crossed his arms stubbornly. “Then she shouldn’t have trespassed here,” he argued. “She should have gone to a public health facility and sought the care of a medical professional, not intruded on someone’s private property.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think there are any hospitals out in the _middle of the woods_.”

“Well, that doesn’t erase the fact that she committed an infraction of the law. How would _you_ like it if a stranger barged into your home without permission, sat on your furniture, used your coatrack, drank from your teacup, and when you finally confronted her, she started playing the victim and acting like she had the right to be in a house that wasn’t even hers? Encroaching on someone’s privacy is a serious offense, not to mention a violation of one’s personal rights. The right to property is a basic, inalienable—”

Aaron held up a hand to put a stop to the ceaseless flow of words. “Sir, she could _die_. She was in a desperate situation. True, she may have committed a minor infraction, but she doesn’t deserve to pay for it with her life! Please, isn’t there anything I can do?”

“There’s nothing you can do. No point in pleading her case anymore. Anyway, as I was saying before—”

“No, listen to me. I’ll do anything! I—I’ll…” Aaron frantically searched his mind for ideas. “I’ll take her place,” he blurted before he could rethink it. “I’ll stay here in the castle in her stead.”

“Aaron, no! You don’t know what you’re doing!” Sally exclaimed. Aaron did his best to tune her out.

Alexander was staring at him with what almost seemed like admiration. “You would take her place?” he asked in a subdued voice. Some of his anger seemed to have ebbed away.

Aaron began to tremble. “Only if you let her go.”

“Fine. But you must promise to stay here forever.”

Aaron swallowed nervously. He didn’t have much experience in making weighty decisions—especially ones that could dramatically alter the rest of his life. It was difficult for him to think straight under this kind of pressure. He needed to go about this decision with care and caution. He needed to weigh his options, consider the consequences, measure the costs…

Alexander made an impatient sound. “Well? Make up your mind. I haven’t got all day.” He didn’t have time for such hesitancy and indecisiveness. There were far more important things for him to attend to, like ripping up furniture and brooding, thank you very much.

Aaron remembered something he had heard once, about how it was easier to be afraid of what you could not see. “Come into the light,” he told the beast, whose features were masked by the darkness. “Let me see your face.”

Alexander let out a low growl, but he obeyed anyway. He stepped forward until his face was illuminated by the beam of light that fell from an aperture in the ceiling. Aaron’s eyes widened at the sight of the beast’s horrific visage—the bedraggled fur, the curved fangs protruding from beneath the twisted lip, the devilish horns…  

Heart beating frantically, Aaron staggered backward against the bars of Sally’s cell.

“I can’t let you do this, Aaron!” she whispered hoarsely.

Aaron took a deep breath to calm himself. Then he himself stepped into the light. He had reached a decision, as undesirable as it was. “I’ll do it. I’ll stay here in my sister’s place.” He lifted his gaze to meet Alexander’s. “You—you have my word.”

“Done.” Alexander moved over to unlock the cell.

Cold to the bone, Aaron could do nothing but stare hollowly at the wall in front of him. He would never be free again—would never go on the adventures of which he had always dreamed. But what choice did he have? _I’m doing this for Sally_ , he told himself. He would be trapped there for god knew how long, but if it meant that his beloved sister would be out of harm’s way, then it was worth it. Besides, Sally was so much closer to achieving her dreams than Aaron was; perhaps she would finally be able to make a name for herself as an inventor, now that she was free. 

As soon as the cell door was unlocked, Sally rushed over to Aaron. “You can’t do this! Listen, I’m older than you, I have less of my life to live—” She was cut off as Alexander grabbed her and dragged her downstairs.

“Wait!” Aaron screamed after them.

His plea fell on deaf ears.

Once they had gotten outside the castle, Alexander threw Sally into a carriage, which had once been an old horse named Nelson.

“No, please spare my brother!” she pleaded. “Poor little Aaron…oh, he’s still so young.”

“He’s no longer your concern,” Alexander replied callously. “Take her to the village,” he ordered Nelson.

Nelson, who was able to understand English for some reason, promptly rolled away across the bridge over the moat.

Aaron watched from the cell window as the carriage rode off with his sister. Tears burned the back of his eyes and threatened to fall. He blinked them away, trying to compose himself. He would be strong. He wouldn’t let that beast see him cry.

Alexander was walking up the stairs toward the cell with Lafayette.

“Alex?” Lafayette ventured.

“What.”

“Since the boy will be staying with us for, ah, quite some time, I was thinking. Perhaps you could offer him a more… _comfortable_ room?”

Alexander growled in response.

“Or not.”

They entered the cell where Aaron was brooding. “You didn’t even give us a chance to say good-bye,” he said bitterly. “I’ll never get to see her again.”

Alexander noticed that Aaron was close to tears, which saddened him. Indeed, Alexander  _was_  a bit of an asshole, but he wasn’t a complete monster. “I’ll show you to your room,” he said quietly.

“My…room?” Aaron seemed surprised. “I was under the impression that I was to be a prisoner.”

“You may consider yourself to be a guest, as long as you are here. Of course, you’re welcome to stay in the cell, if that’s what you’d prefer,” he added sardonically.

Aaron donned his neutral, expressionless mask. “I would rather not, thank you,” he said in a flat voice.

“Follow me, then.” He led Aaron to his new room, using Lafayette as a light source.

Aaron was silent as they walked. He stared straight ahead, his shoulders rigid and his entire face devoid of emotion. It both unnerved and pained Alexander to see him like this.

“Say something to him,” Lafayette whispered.

Alexander cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh…I…hope you like it here?” He looked at Lafayette for approval. The candlestick motioned for him to continue. “Well—um—the castle is your home now, so you may go anywhere you wish—except for the West Wing,” he added quickly.

“What’s in the West Wing?” Aaron asked. His face remained impassive, but his curiosity was piqued.

“It’s _forbidden_!” Alexander snapped, his eyes glinting. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll steer entirely clear of it. Don’t even think about trying to go search for it.”

“Of course,” Aaron murmured, but his curiosity did not subside.

They arrived in front of a bedroom. The door opened, allowing light to spill in. “This will be your room from now on,” said Alexander.

Aaron peered through the doorway, tentatively stepping inside. It was quite large—even larger than the one he had back at home. It was far more lavish and extravagant than his own austere quarters, with a four-poster bed, a crystal chandelier, rich carpets, patterned wallpaper, and framed artwork hanging on the walls.

Alexander, noting Aaron’s anxiety, softened. “Now, if there’s anything you need, the castle staff will attend you,” he said, his voice almost tender.

“And dinner! Ask him to dinner,” Lafayette hissed in his ear.

“Right. Dinner. You…will be joining me…for that.”

Aaron refused to look him in the eye. He didn’t answer. His expression once again became cold and hard.

Alexander’s irritation flared. “That was an order, not a request!” he snarled. Lafayette winced. “And I expect to see you downstairs at seven o’clock _sharp_.” He whirled away and slammed the door behind him with a _bang_ that seemed to reverberate through the entire castle.

“That went well,” Lafayette remarked as Alexander stalked off down the hallway.

Inside the room, Aaron’s legs finally gave out, and he sank to the floor, exhausted. The tears he’d been holding back now poured forth. The tension drained away from his face, which crumpled into a sob.

He buried his face in his hands. God, he must have looked pathetic, huddling there on the ground with tears streaming down his face. But at least he was alone, he thought, with no one around to witness him weeping his heart out. Small mercies.

Ah, but little did he know that a pair of eyes was watching him…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Ham and Burr finally get to meet! Yay? Granted, their first meeting didn't exactly go very well, but hey, it can only get better from there, right?
> 
> Again, thank you so much for your sweet and lovely comments! They mean a lot to me and really help to keep me going. I can't tell you how happy it makes me that people are still reading and enjoying this :)


	6. 5) Seabury Is Just Trying His Best

Back at the village, George was sulking in the tavern, drowning his sorrows in a pint of Sam Adams (the beverage. We must note that Sam Adams the _person_  was still alive at this time, which often made it necessary to clarify whether one was referring to the drink or to the man. You’d be surprised at how often the two got mixed up.)

He slammed his mug on the table, causing everyone sitting there to jump. “Who does that man think he is? The nerve of him! No one says ‘no’ to George King the Third. _No one_!” The idea that someone could actually reject him was a foreign concept. In his view, Aaron should have been grateful that he’d even extended the invitation. “He was mine to subdue.”

“Uh, don’t you mean ‘marry’?” Seabury asked. 

George ignored him. “Dismissed! Rejected! Publicly humiliated! Oh, it’s more than I can bear!”

“More beer?” Richard Howe slurred, mishearing him. (Howe had, indeed, once been a distinguished admiral, but as of now, his current occupation in life was getting outrageously drunk.)

“What for? Nothing helps!” George hid his face in his hands. “I’m disgraced.”

“Nothing, you say?” Seabury’s gaze landed on the piano. The pianist had paused in his playing to nurse a mug of ale. “Not even a…lively musical number would help to lift your spirits?” he asked loudly. The pianist perked up at this. As if on cue, he shoved the mug aside and began to tap out the first few notes of a song.

Seabury took a deep breath before he burst into song. “ _George, it disturbs me to see you like this_ —”

George lifted his face from his hands, frowning. “A few _spoken_ encouragements would suffice, thank you.” Strangely enough, he wasn’t in the mood for a big musical number, which was rather uncharacteristic of him.

“Oh.” Seabury deflated.

The dejected pianist returned to his ale.

“W-Well—er…” Seabury looked around at the others for help. They stared back at him blankly. Seabury gulped. He wasn’t really known for making compelling speeches. He had once been told that a dog spoke more eloquently than he did, which didn’t even make any sense, as dogs couldn’t speak.

“L-Listen, George. You—you’ve got to…er…you need to pull yourself together! There isn’t a man in this room who wouldn’t love to be you.” One man was about to raise his hand in protest, but he quickly thought better of it. “You’re the most admired person in this whole entire village! And for good reason, too. You’re perfect…a paragon of purity and manly virtue. There’s no one in the world who can match your charm and wit and intimidating stature.”

There was a murmur of agreement throughout the tavern.

“He’s the only person who looks good in paintings!” Monroe added. Everyone gazed at the wall across the room, which was covered entirely in portraits. Each and every one of the paintings depicted George’s smug face.

“Not to mention there’s no one as burly and brawny as he is,” John Adams said with a dreamy sigh. He and John Jay were fondling George’s biceps.

“I remember when he ate five of my biggest loaves of bread in one go!” Lee piped up. “True, he may have stolen them from my bakery, but it was still very impressive!”

“He’s the best hunter in the whole town,” said James Reynolds. “His skill with a gun is _un_ surpassable. No one can murder innocent little animals quite like George can!”

Jacob Eacker hopped up excitedly. “I was in a duel with him once! He almost shot me in the heart—it was amazing! I even named my son George after him.”

“Awww.”  Everyone placed a hand over their own heart, touched.

Then an awkward silence settled over the tavern. People had run out of things to say.

Lee nudged Seabury with his elbow.

“Hm? Oh! And…and…” Seabury racked his brain for another redeeming quality. “And you have a handsome cleft in your chin!” Actually, no, he didn’t, but Seabury rushed on before George could realize this. “The point is, George, that Burr was absolutely crazy to reject you. Almost as crazy as—”

“Mrs. Reeve!” someone exclaimed as Sally stumbled into the tavern, eyes wide.

“Help! Someone help me!” she cried.

“What’s happening?” Seabury questioned, annoyed about being interrupted.

“He’s got him! He’s got him locked in a dungeon!” Sally gasped. “We—we have to…go…” She abruptly collapsed to the floor from fatigue.

Thankfully, not everyone in that tavern was drunk or an asshat. One man, Jonathan Bellamy, sprinted over to see what was wrong. “She’s burning up! She must be terribly ill.” He carried her to a chair. “We must take her to a doctor immediately. I’ll go get a—”

“No one is going anywhere!” George’s voice boomed.

Everyone turned to look at him, stunned. He hadn’t spoken in a while, which made his sudden outburst even more terrifying.

“Get a hold of yourself for a second, Mrs. Reeve,” he snapped. “Who’s got whom locked in a dungeon?”

“Aaron! Aaron is in a dungeon.”

Everyone gasped.

“And a beast put him in there!”

Silence.

“A… _beast_ , madam?” Bellamy asked.

Sally nodded vigorously, sending a sharp stab of pain through her skull. “Yes! A monstrous, hairy creature! And its name is Alexander Hamilton!”

There was another beat of silence, before the tavern promptly burst into laughter.

“And I suppose this…Alexander Hamilton fellow is a very big beast?” Seabury sneered.

“Huge!” Sally agreed, her mind too addled to recognize that he was making fun of her.

“With a long, ugly snout?” Reynolds laughed.

“Actually, it’s a bit shorter and more lion-like, but yes, hideously ugly!”

“And sharp, cruel fangs?” Lee chipped in.

“Yes, yes!”

Bellamy held up a hand. “Enough of this. The poor woman is delusional, and she’s clearly had some sort of scare.”

“No…not delusional…it’s true…” Sally mumbled. “Why won’t anyone believe me?”

“You aren’t in your right mind, madam.” Bellamy helped her out of the tavern. “Now let’s get you to a doctor, shall we?” He shut the door behind them.

“Crazy Mrs. Reeve,” Reynolds chuckled, downing the rest of his beer. “She’s always good for a laugh.” The others snickered in agreement.

George, however, was eerily quiet. He looked almost pensive. “Crazy Mrs. Reeve, hmm?” he mused to himself. “Crazy Mrs. Reeve…” He turned to Seabury. “Samuel, I’m afraid I’ve been…thinking.”

Seabury shivered. “A dangerous pastime.”

“I know. But that eccentric woman is Burr’s sister, and her sanity is, well, questionable.” George leaned in conspiratorially. “You recall how I promised myself that I would be married to Burr, correct?”

“I distinctly remember that, yes.”

“Well, after that woman burst in and started babbling about beasts, I was able to formulate a plan—a plan to make Burr mine. It’s rather ingenious, if I may say so myself.”

“Tell me.”

George’s voice dropped to a whisper as he divulged his evil scheme. Once he had finished speaking, he and Seabury grinned at each other.

“Oh, George, I love it! You _are_ a genius!” Seabury exclaimed.

“I know I am! Soon, Burr will realize whom he really belongs to—and that person is _me_!”

Then the two of them—spurred on by a mixture of excitement and inebriation (but mostly inebriation)—began to waltz across the floor, both singing horribly off-key. The pianist launched into the song he had been about to play earlier.

The drunk townspeople watched them dance, wiping tears from their eyes. It was the most beautiful performance they’d ever seen in their lives.

Meanwhile, outside the tavern, Bellamy was bundling Sally into a horse-drawn carriage. Nelson had disappeared a while ago.

“Where…where are we going? Are we going to the castle?” Sally asked as Bellamy climbed in next to her. She coughed feebly.

“Shhh, it’s all right. Just get some rest for now.” Bellamy pulled off his coat and tucked it snugly about her. “Take us to the Burr estate, please,” he told the driver, who nodded.

Bellamy was conflicted. He was a very practical man—far from the type to believe such outlandish stories as a beast living in a castle and kidnapping people. The crazed, feverish light in Sally’s eyes certainly did not make her story any more convincing.

And yet. Although he would never confess it out loud, Bellamy was a little in love with Sally’s reserved, bookish brother, and the idea of Aaron being in danger was rather alarming. Sally was, indeed, strange and excitable, but she had never flown into a panic quite like _this_ one before. Perhaps Aaron truly was in trouble…

Sally let out a pitiful moan, and her head dropped onto Bellamy’s shoulder. He sighed. He would have to figure all of this out later. For the time being, it was of utmost importance to find help for Sally.


	7. 6) Yet Another Bad Pun Is Made

Aaron lay in bed, staring listlessly at the thin cracks in the ceiling. His eyelids were still swollen from crying, but the tears had dried on his skin.

There came a muffled clinking noise at the door. Aaron pushed himself out of bed and took a cursory glance at his face in a mirror. He looked absolutely miserable, so he attempted to arrange his features into something a little more proper and presentable. Once he had attained an expression suitable for greeting people, he walked over to open the door. “Who is it?” he inquired in his usual courteous tone.

“Elizabeth Schuyler, dear,” someone said softly. “I thought you might want some tea.”

Aaron opened the door to reveal a teacart, which promptly wheeled into the room on its own. The teapot, which had a pretty, painted face, smiled up at him. “Hello, Aaron!”

And just like that, Aaron’s prim façade was gone. His smile fell, and his eyes bulged rather comically.

_Teapot. There is a_ teapot _talking to me._

“Y-You—you’re a…” he stuttered. He backed up into the giant oaken wardrobe.

“Oof. Careful!” the wardrobe said in a deep voice.

Startled, Aaron stumbled backward and fell onto the bed. “This can’t be happening…” As far as he knew, wardrobes and teapots couldn’t speak. In fairytales, yes, but in real life? Certainly not.

It was official. Aaron had lost his mind.

The wardrobe’s heavy shoulder dropped onto the bed, causing Aaron to catapult into the air a little. “I know it seems impossible, but here we are! I’m Hercules Mulligan, by the way.”

“A pleasure, I’m sure,” Aaron said. With a start, he realized that Hercules had been in the room while he was crying. He blushed. How embarrassing.

“Told you he was handsome, Mama,” Philip whispered as tea, sugar, and cream were poured into him. A spoon scurried over to mix the drink together. “Didn’t I?”

“Yes, very handsome indeed. Now don’t go too fast. We don’t want to stain those nice bed sheets with tea.”

“Thank you.” Aaron gingerly picked up the freckled teacup. He wasn’t quite sure how to go about drinking from it, as he was worried about squeezing too hard or inadvertently injuring Philip. He had never held a sentient teacup before this moment.

“Hey! Mr. Burr! Wanna hear me count to nine in French? I’ve been perfecting my accent!” Philip cleared his throat. “Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf!”

“Oh, um, very good.” So not only could these objects speak, but they were also bilingual? This was too much to take in.

Eliza turned to Aaron. “That was a very brave thing you did, sacrificing yourself to save your sister.”

“Yes! We all think so, Aaron,” Hercules chimed in.

“But I’ve lost everything,” Aaron sighed, staring into his tea. “My dreams, my freedom, my sister…Sally’s the only family I have left, and I don’t even know if I’ll ever get to see her again.”

“Cheer up, dear. It’ll turn out all right in the end. You’ll see.” Eliza didn’t know why she was so sure, but she liked to remain optimistic. “Oh! By the by…” She gestured to a sheaf of parchment paper, a quill pen, and an inkwell that were sitting on the cart. “Alexander thought you might want these. In case you would like to write to your sister while you’re here.”

“How thoughtful of him,” Aaron murmured absently, placing the writing set on the bedside table. He noticed that the paper was of a very high quality, and that the quill was nice and sturdy, but this did little to alleviate his misery.

Eliza gazed at him for a few moments. It seemed as if she was about to say something more when a thought suddenly occurred to her. “The dinner! Oh, I almost forgot. Come along, Pip, it’s time to get ready. See you later, Aaron!”

“Good-bye.” Aaron watched as the tea set left the room. He still felt confused about what he had just witnessed.

Hercules approached him. The wardrobe smiled sheepishly. “I hope you’re feeling better, Aaron. I would have tried to comfort you earlier, but I didn’t want to, uh, scare you off. I know my size might come off as intimidating to some.”

Aaron rubbed his temples. “I’m fine. It’s all just been a bit overwhelming.”

“Ah, I know. I guess it’s not every day that a person comes upon a castle full of talking objects, huh? Anyway, back to business. What should we dress you in for dinner? Let’s see here…” The doors on the wardrobe flew open, and a swarm of moths fluttered out past Aaron’s face. “Whoa! Sorry about that.” Hercules used one of the doors as an arm, reaching in to pull out a deep blue suit. “Aha! Perfect! I tailored this myself, you know, back when I had hands. You’ll look _top-drawer_ in this.”

Aaron was too despondent to be amused by furniture puns. “It’s a beautiful suit, to be sure, but I’m afraid I won’t be going to dinner.”

“You won’t? But why not?”

Before Aaron could answer Hercules’ question, Washington the clock waddled into the room, clearing his throat. “Good evening, Mr. Burr. Dinner…is served.”

-

Alexander paced restlessly back and forth in front of the fireplace. Lafayette, Laurens, and Eliza looked on in silence. “What is _taking_ him so long?” Alexander muttered. “I told him to come down. Why isn’t he here yet? What, is he just so disgusted by my appearance that the very sight of me causes him to lose his appetite?”

“Hey, hey, let’s not jump to any hasty conclusions. Maybe he takes a long time to get ready,” Laurens guessed. “He’s probably just choosing an outfit, or fixing his hair.” He paused, frowning. “Even though he, uh, doesn’t really have much to work with in regards to hair…”

Eliza heaved a sigh. “Please, Alexander, have patience. The man has lost his sister and his freedom all in one day. You mustn’t be so hard on him.”

“Yes, and have you considered that perhaps Burr could be the one to break the spell?” Lafayette asked.

“Of course I have,” Alexander huffed. “I’m not stupid.”

“Good, very good. Then you will fall in love with him, he will fall in love with you, and poof! Spell’s broken. We will be human again in no time at all.”

“It’s not so simple as that, Laf,” Laurens pointed out. “It takes time.”

Lafayette hopped up impatiently. “But we do not have time! The rose has already begun to wilt.”

“It’s no use. I can’t do it!” Alexander turned away. “He’s just so devastatingly beautiful, and I’m—well, look at me!”

“He has a point,” Eliza remarked.

“Come on, Alex! What happened to that old determination? That old confidence?” Laurens hopped closer. “You have to help Burr see past your appearance. He needs to see the real Alexander.”

“You can start by making yourself more presentable,” Eliza advised. “I know you aren’t used to being this tall, but you need to stop slouching!”

Lafayette brightened. “Oh, and when Burr comes into the room, give him a dashing, debonair smile! Like this.” A dazzling grin burst across his face. “Now you try. Come, come, show us your best smile.”

Alexander bared his teeth into what he thought was a charming smile. It ended up looking more like a fierce snarl.

Lafayette grimaced. “Forget about the smile, then. Perhaps you can impress him with your rapier wit and vast knowledge!”

“But don’t ramble,” said Eliza. “Give Aaron a chance to speak.”

“Shower him with romantic compliments!” Laurens suggested. “You can be _quite_ the charmer when you want to be,” he added, waggling his eyebrows.

Eliza frowned. “But be _sincere_.”

“And most importantly…” Lafayette trailed off.

“Control. Your. _Temper!_ ” All three of them shouted this in unison, as though they’d rehearsed it.

Alexander held up his hands. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

The door creaked open. Everyone’s attention snapped to the doorway.

“Here he is!” Lafayette hissed.

Everyone waited with bated breath as the door swung slowly open to reveal none other than…Washington.

“Good evening, everyone.”

“Where’s Burr?” Alexander demanded.

“Nice to see you too, Hamilton.” Washington looked very exasperated.

“What happened?” Lafayette asked, curious.

“I can’t believe it. I did everything I could to convince him! He’s not coming.”

It was as though a cannon had exploded. “WHAT?” Alexander roared. He slammed the door open and flew out of the room, furious. The objects gave chase.

Washington called after him. “Now, son. Let’s not be too hasty!”

“I’m not your son,” Alexander muttered darkly. He ran up to Aaron’s door and pounded on it, nearly breaking the door off its hinges. “BURR! I thought I told you to come down to dinner.”

Aaron’s voice was cold. “I thank you for your kind invitation, Mr. Hamilton, but I am not feeling very hungry at the moment.”

“If you don’t come out, I’ll…I’ll…break down this door!” Which he had almost done already.

Lafayette stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Alexander, I could be wrong, but this may not be the best way to win his affections.”

Laurens nodded. “Yeah, threatening someone with violence is not exactly the most romantic thing to do.”

Washington pinched the bridge of his nose. “Son, you need to make more of an effort to act civilized.”

“Don’t call me son!” Alexander released a frustrated growl. “Why does Burr need to be so difficult?”

“Be patient, Alex,” Eliza admonished. “Now try again. Gentler this time.”

Alexander sighed heavily. “Will you come down to dinner?” he asked in a quieter voice.

Aaron’s tone was just as firm and unyielding as before. “No.”

Alexander whipped around to face the objects. He was practically bursting with indignation.

“Suave! Genteel!” Lafayette stage-whispered.

Alexander rolled his eyes. In attempt to act formal, he swept into an elaborate bow and assumed the loftiest tone of voice he could manage. “Mr. Aaron Burr, sir. It would give me great pleasure if you would join me for dinner tonight.”

“Say ‘please,’” said Eliza.

“ _Please_ ,” Alexander spat.

Aaron, who was not amused by Alexander’s sarcasm, once again rejected the offer.

“You can’t stay in there forever!” Alexander’s claws sank into the wall near the door, leaving deep gouges in the wallpaper.

“Yes, I can,” Aaron said. “And I will.”

“Fine! Perfect! Then you can go ahead and _starve_ , for all I care!” Alexander stormed off down the hall, slamming the door to his room and causing a piece of ceiling to fall on Lafayette’s head.

“You are the worst, Alexander,” Lafayette groaned, rubbing his head.

“That could have gone a lot better,” Eliza admitted.

Washington, undaunted, assumed an air of command. “Lafayette, stand watch at the door and inform me at once if there is the slightest change,” he ordered the candlestick.

Lafayette saluted. “You can count on me, mon general!”

“Laurens, Ms. Schuyler, come with me. We should head downstairs and clean up.” The three of them hopped off.

In the beast’s lair—or, rather, Alexander’s bedroom—Alexander was storming around angrily, shredding up furniture and ranting to himself. “I ask nicely, but he refuses! That stubborn little—what does he want me to do, beg? I never beg. And how is it possible for a human to remain so calm and emotionless like that? It…it’s…unnatural!” He snatched up the magic mirror, wincing as he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the glass. “Show me the man.”

The mirror flashed green before revealing on its silver surface the scene in the other bedroom. Aaron was lying on his bed while Hercules pleaded with him.

“Alexander isn’t so bad once you get to know him. I mean, sure, he can be short-tempered, and loud, and abrasive, and brash, and rude, and he doesn’t really think about the consequences of his actions…but, uh, maybe you can at least give him a chance?”

“I want nothing to do with that arrogant bastard,” Aaron responded icily. “He’s sorely mistaken if he believes he can just order me around to do as he pleases.”

Alexander laid the mirror down on a table, his heart heavy. “I knew it. He’ll never see me as anything but a monster. I’m fooling myself, thinking he can fall in love with me.” He buried his head in his hands. “It’s hopeless.”

Unbeknownst to him, another petal had fallen off of the rose.


	8. 7) The Dining Room Where It Happens

After brooding in his room for what felt like hours, Aaron quietly pushed the door to the room open and slipped out into the hallway. He smiled humorlessly to himself. Alexander was right about one thing: Aaron couldn’t stay in that room forever.

Meanwhile, Lafayette and Peggy were engaged in a rendezvous of some sort behind a curtain.

“Gilbert, stop!” Peggy giggled. “What if my father finds out? You know how strict he is.”

“Never fear, ma cherie!” Lafayette proclaimed melodramatically. “Monsieur Schuyler doesn’t need to know a thing. It is rather unfortunate that he is now a stove, as he can literally roast me alive, but I am willing to risk it all…for our love.”

Lafayette and Peggy tumbled out from behind the curtain, laughing. Lafayette took the feather duster in his arms, seemingly about to kiss her, when he noticed Aaron walking down the hall. He dropped Peggy, shocked.

“Oof!” she squeaked.

“Zut alors! He has emerged!” Lafayette dashed off, and Peggy scurried after him.

In the kitchen, everyone was busy cleaning up the untouched dinner.

Eliza helped the teacups into the cupboard. “Come on, Pip. Into the cupboard with your brothers and sisters.”

“But I’m not sleepy,” Philip protested. He’d been hit with inspiration for a new poem and needed someone to transcribe it for him, as he had neither arms nor hands.

“Yes, you are.” Eliza smiled knowingly as Philip’s eyelids began to droop.

“No…I’m…not…” Philip fell asleep, and Eliza shut the cupboard door.

Mr. Philip Schuyler, Sr., the stove, was irritably banging around pots and pans. “I work and slave all day, and for what? A culinary masterpiece gone to waste.”

Eliza spoke in a soothing voice. “It’s been a long night for all of us, Papa. Try and get some rest, now.” She let out a sigh. “I simply cannot believe Alexander’s conduct toward that poor man! It’s a wonder that Aaron isn’t frightened out of his wits.”

“Well, if you ask me, Burr was just being stubborn. After all, Hamilton did say ‘please,’” Washington said in Alexander’s defense. Although Alexander irritated him at times, Washington couldn’t deny that he was partial toward the younger man.

“But if Alexander doesn’t learn to control his temper, he’ll never break the sp—”

Aaron walked in before she could finish.

“ _Splendid_ to see you out and about, Mr. Burr! I am George Washington, former general, and head of this household.” Washington bowed. Lafayette came barging into the kitchen with Peggy. “This is…”

“Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier. But you may simply call me Lafayette.” Lafayette bent over to place a soft peck on the back of Aaron’s hand. “Enchante, cher.” He then proceeded to cover Aaron’s entire hand in kisses.

“That’s quite enough of that, Lafayette.” Washington shoved the candelabra to the side.

“And I’m Peggy!” Peggy chirped, not wanting to be ignored.

Washington cleared his throat. “If there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable, Mr. Burr, please let any of us know.”

“Well, I am a little hungry,” Aaron confessed. He was famished, to be specific. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

Eliza’s eyes widened at this. “You are? Hear that, everyone? He’s hungry! Papa, Papa! Stoke the fire!”

“Oh, so _now_ I’m needed,” Mr. Schuyler grumbled, but he got to work anyway. The fire on the stove roared to life, and he heated up some pots to boil water.

“Break out the silver!” Eliza ordered. “Wake the china!”

The drawers flew open to reveal silverware standing at attention like a line of soldiers.

“Are you sure this is such a good idea, ‘Liza?” Peggy asked dubiously. “Alexander might get mad again…”

“Of course it is,” Eliza replied, her eyes alight with a rebellious gleam. “We can’t let our guest go hungry!”

“Elizabeth is right. I suppose it wouldn’t be very healthy for Burr to starve to death.” Washington stepped forward, pointing at the silverware. “You, go fetch a crust of bread from the pantry, please. And you, fill up a pitcher with some water—”

Lafayette gasped. “No, no, no! What are you doing, Washington? Aaron is not our prisoner! He is, as Eliza said, our guest. We must show him some good old-fashioned French hospitality!”

“This isn’t France.”

Lafayette waved a careless hand. “Be that as it may, we must do our best to make him feel welcome here. And in order to do that, we must present him with a grand feast! Besides, we cannot allow Monsieur Schuyler’s culinary genius to go to waste, can we?”

“A _feast_?” Washington eyed Aaron’s slender figure. “Are you sure he can even eat that much?”

Lafayette ignored him, smiling at Aaron. “Right this way, monsieur.”

“At least keep it down in there!” Washington called after them as they headed for the dining room.

Aaron seated himself at the end of the long table. Lafayette stood before him, a single spotlight shining from above.

Lafayette bowed deeply. “Monsieur Burr. It is with deepest pleasure and greatest pride that I welcome you tonight. And now, we invite you to relax. Let us pull up a chair as the dining room proudly presents…your dinner.”

With that, a bevy of platters paraded across the immense table. The kitchen staff had worked very fast. The plates were piled high with steaming food: boiled lobsters, stuffed pheasants and ducks, and three giant oyster patties flanked on one side by a beef joint and on the other by a mutton joint. To balance out the meat dishes, there were bowls filled with boiled onions, new beets, and roasted potatoes.

Mr. Schuyler had wanted to cook a pot of his famous turtle soup as well, but Laurens had gotten rid of that idea before it came to fruition.

Aaron’s chair attempted to wrap a napkin around his neck. Aaron, ever the proper gentleman, took it off and placed it neatly on his lap. The chair put its hands on its waist as though it were indignant.

“And what is dinner without a little show?” said Lafayette, whose idea of a “little show” was not very little at all.

On cue, a cabinet at the end of the table swung open to reveal an enormous china collection, which rolled out and began to dance around the table. A cheerful, vibrant tune started up, though where the music came from was a mystery. Frothy mugs of Sam Adams the beverage swarmed onto the table to do a gymnastics routine, hopping over one another and doing flips. Miraculously, not one drop of beer spilled onto the tablecloth.

A crystal bowl filled nearly to the brim with wine was added in. One by one, the spoons standing on the edge of the bowl dove into the deep purple drink and proceeded to perform a synchronized swimming routine. Lafayette stood on a plate that was floating in the middle of the bowl. A stream of wine spurted up, elevating the plate into the air as Lafayette juggled his candles. Logically speaking, this should have been impossible, as there was nothing to propel the wine upwards. But, then again, this _was_ taking place in an enchanted castle full of magical talking objects.

Aaron watched this strange performance with awe. He was enjoying it immensely.

After the main course, ten giant bowls of pudding marched in, along with a tiered cake, a pie roughly the size of the moon, and—much to Aaron’s delight—a container of vanilla ice cream.

Eliza rolled over to him in the tea cart. “I do hope you’re enjoying everything,” she whispered, pouring him a cup of freshly brewed tea. Philip was out like a light, so this time his sister Angie was here to serve the tea. “And that it isn’t too overwhelming for you.”

“Oh, no! It’s wonderful.”

“We haven’t been used in years. Most days, we’re all just lazing around the castle with nothing to do. Now that we finally have a guest in the castle, everyone is eager to put their skills to good use. You could say we’re obsessed, even! Especially Lafayette. He’s been preparing this routine for a while.”

“You don’t say.” Aaron watched as Lafayette leaped off of the plate to perform an elaborately choreographed dance sequence with the china and candlesticks.

“Well, enjoy! Oh, and try the grey stuff—it’s delicious,” Eliza added with a wink.

Aaron dipped his spoon in to sample it. The grey stuff was indeed delicious. It was some sort of mousse—sweet and rich and creamy.

The performance continued for quite some time, but it was all very delightful and entertaining. Aaron hadn’t laughed and smiled and eaten this much since…well, he couldn’t even remember! There was one brief terrifying moment in which Aaron experienced an awful headache and feared that he was dying. Fortunately, it was only a brain freeze, brought on by his rapid consumption of the ice cream.

As the performance reached the grand finale, the silverware flung themselves into the air. The corks popped off of the tops of champagne bottles, causing the sparkling golden liquid to shoot toward the ceiling like miniature fountains. The plates rolled across the table, a group of feather dusters headed by Peggy twirled and pranced about, and Lafayette came sliding in to the front, looking thrilled but utterly exhausted. He threw his arms into the air.

“Voila!” he cried. Then he fell over.


	9. 8) Art History and Forbidden Rooms

A stunned silence fell over the objects.

“Lafayette!” Aaron reached over to help the candelabra up. “Are you all right?”

Lafayette sprang up, grinning. “So! Did you enjoy the show?”

“Yes! It was incredible, but are you—”

He was cut off as Washington burst into the dining room. “Do you _want_ Hamilton to rant at us for hours on end? I could hear the ruckus in this room from all the way in the den! I will no longer tolerate this mass mutiny. Are these the people with which I am to oversee this household?” The clock shook his head in disapproval. Or at least, he tried to. It is rather difficult to do so when one does not have a neck.

“Where’s Alexander?” Eliza asked, frowning.

Washington looked up. “What?”

“If Alexander really _was_ disturbed by all the noise, he would have come down here to complain about it,” Eliza reasoned.

Washington paused to consider this. “Huh. I…didn’t see him at all, actually. He’s been very quiet—unusually so. I haven’t even heard him stomping around and tearing up furniture like he always does.”

Everyone was silent for a while.

“Anyway!” Washington broke the silence. “It’s probably best for everyone to turn in for the night. To bed with all of you!” The drinks, silverware, and food platters obediently scampered off.

Aaron was hit by an abrupt wave of curiosity. He recalled something that Alexander had told him earlier, about a forbidden section of the castle. Perhaps now was a good time to explore it, as the beast appeared to be dormant…

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly go to bed right now,” he protested. “It’s my first time in an enchanted castle.”

“Enchanted? Who said anything about the castle being enchanted?” Washington rounded on Lafayette accusingly. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

Aaron raised an eyebrow. “I…figured that out for myself, actually. I mean, with the dancing, talking objects and all, it isn’t very hard to deduce.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.” Washington cleared his throat and stepped away from Lafayette.

“I’d like to take a look around, if you don’t mind,” Aaron said sweetly.

“Ooh!” Lafayette jumped up, excited all of a sudden. “Would you like a tour?”

“Wait a second, wait a second. I’m not so sure that’s such a good idea.” Washington shot Lafayette a meaningful glance. “We can’t let him go poking around in _certain places_ ,” he added in a whisper.

Aaron wore his most charming smile. “Ah, perhaps _you_ could take me, Washington. I’m sure you know everything there is to know about the castle. You are, after all, one of the castle’s eldest and wisest inhabitants. I’m sure you have plenty of interesting stories to tell about its illustrious history.”

Fortunately for Aaron, Washington was not immune to flattery. “Hmm, that _is_ true. Well, I suppose a quick little glance around the place couldn’t hurt. Follow me.”

As they made their way down the hall, Washington lectured about the histories behind the various pieces of artwork that decorated the walls. Lafayette’s eyes were glazed over with boredom, but Aaron pretended to pay rapt attention to Washington’s spiel.

“Ah, I remember this one. The treacherous journey across the ice-laden Delaware River. As you can see, it was an extremely dangerous operation. A very bold move on the general’s part—that’s him right there, the dashing young gent at the forefront of the piece—but not only did they make it across, they also succeeded in launching their surprise attack on the enemy troops.” He noticed that the heads on the suits of armor had turned to watch them. “As you were!” he commanded. They snapped back to face forward. “Now, if I may draw your attention to the engraving over—Burr?” He let out a gasp as he caught sight of Aaron climbing the staircase. The clock and candelabra ran over and threw themselves in front of Aaron, blocking his progress.

“Halt! Stop right there, not another step!” Washington panted, weary from running up the stairs.

“What’s up there?” Aaron asked innocently.

“Nothing of any interest to you. Come along now.”

“There must be _something_ in there,” said Aaron.

Washington frowned. “Perhaps you would like to see something else? We have exquisite tapestries dating all the way back to…”

“The gardens!” Lafayette cut in. “Would you like to visit the gardens? Oh, or the library?”

Aaron’s intense interest was only partially feigned. “You have a library?”

“With books!” Lafayette grinned, relieved that he had found something to distract Aaron from the forbidden section.

“Well, I _do_ love books.”

“Ah, good. As you’ll find, we have no shortage of books in the castle library. We have mountains of them, in fact!” Washington declared. “More books than you’ll ever be able to read in a lifetime. Books on every subject ever studied, by every author who ever set quill to paper, from Alighieri to Wollstonecraft to…”

Washington and Lafayette began marching off in the direction of the library. Aaron walked part of the distance with them. When he was sure that they wouldn’t notice, he slipped away toward the forbidden place, which we know as the West Wing.

Aaron normally wasn’t rebellious like this, but his curiosity was simply too great. Alexander was hiding something in there, he just knew it. Why else would it be off limits to Aaron?

On top of that, Aaron had a rather potent desire to be able to understand who Alexander was. _What_ he was. They were quite different from each other: Alexander was loud while Aaron was reserved, and Aaron was cautious where Alexander was impulsive. Yet Aaron felt a strange connection to the beast—as though their fates were intertwined somehow. As though they were twin souls.

Perhaps the West Wing held the answers to the questions that tormented him so.

His excitement began to dwindle, however, as he entered the corridor leading to the West Wing. When he glanced into the cracked mirror that hung from the wall, he noticed that his face had taken on a very nervous expression. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself.

 _Be brave_.

At the end of the hallway was a door with a pair of gargoyle handles. Aaron took another deep breath in before grasping the handle and pushing his way inside.

The room was chaos—utter chaos. It looked as though a hurricane had swept through it, leaving nothing but devastation in its wake. Chairs and tables had been smashed, rugs and blankets had been torn to shreds, and cushions and books were strewn across the floor, of which chunks of wood had been ripped out. Aaron was truly shocked by what he saw. He was a very neat, orderly person, so this mess of a room looked like the Seventh Circle of Hell to him.

A portrait was hanging on the wall opposite from him. The canvas had several tears in it, but Aaron could make out a beautiful young man with long, dark hair and intelligent brown eyes.

A strange new feeling fluttered through Aaron’s stomach as he gazed at the man’s handsome face. _Must be because of all those sweets I ate after dinner_ , he reasoned to himself. Mr. Schuyler was, after all, an excellent pastry chef.

And yet. He couldn’t deny that the picture was very peculiar (and very pretty). Aaron was quite sure that he had never seen another human in the castle.

But those _eyes_. There was something strikingly familiar about those eyes…

A shimmer of light caught the corner of Aaron’s eye. He turned to see a rose floating under a bell jar. It was the lone pristine object among the sea of wreckage and desolation that covered the rest of the room. Aaron stared at the rose, mesmerized by its beauty. Its velvet petals were a deep, rich red, and the flower itself was wreathed in a glittering mist of golden dust.

Aaron walked towards it and carefully lifted off the jar. His heart and mind were overcome by a strange sensation, but he couldn’t identify it. Everything seemed to have faded away. The only things that existed in the room were himself and the rose, but he wasn’t even sure if he was real anymore.

His hand, seemingly of its own accord, reached out to touch the rose.

A shadow fell over him. The trance that he had been in shattered, and he looked up to see Alexander grab the jar and slam it back over the rose. Aaron had been so distracted that he hadn’t even noticed Alexander standing on the balcony outside.

“Why are you in here?” Alexander demanded, hunching protectively over the bell jar. Strangely, Aaron could see a flicker of fear in the beast’s dark brown eyes. There was something unnervingly human about the expression.

Aaron backed away. “I’m so sorry, Alexander, I—”

“I warned you never to come here. Do you realize what you could have done? You could’ve—you could’ve—!” He broke off with an anguished growl. “You had no right to be in here. I gave you _one_ rule, and you deliberately broke it!” Furious, he grabbed one of the demolished tables and began to tear it into even smaller shreds.

“I-I didn’t mean any harm.” Aaron was suddenly gripped with terror.

Alexander turned on him with a snarl. “Get out.”

“Please, I’m sorry, I only wanted to…”

“ _Get out!_ ” The roar shook the entire room.

Aaron’s courage failed him. He turned and fled.

As he ran down the hall, he could hear the beast stumbling out of the room after him.

“Wait. _Wait!_ Aaron, please!” Alexander begged, his voice hoarse with desperation. “Please don’t leave!” But Aaron paid no heed to his cries.

Alexander, realizing that he had probably destroyed his chances with Aaron, became racked with guilt. Why did he always have to be so careless, so reckless? Aaron would never forgive him now. He sank to the floor with a despairing moan.

Aaron flew down the stairway as quickly as he could. Laurens the coatrack conveniently happened to be passing by, and Aaron snatched his cloak from him.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Laurens asked, shocked.

“Promise or no promise, I can’t stay here another minute.” Aaron rushed over to the front door and yanked it open, wrapping his cloak around his shoulders.

“Burr, wait!” Washington shouted. He and Lafayette, who had figured out that Aaron was no longer following them quite a while ago, struggled to catch up to Aaron.

“Don’t go!” Lafayette pleaded, but Aaron slammed the door in their faces.

The objects bowed their heads miserably.

Outside, Aaron searched the castle grounds for the stable. Once he had located it, he dashed inside, trying to catch a glimpse of William Van Ness in one of the stalls. “Will? Where are you?” he called.

William, recognizing Aaron’s voice, let out a whinny.

Relief melted away some of Aaron’s fear. He saddled the horse and clambered onto his back. “Come on, boy. We’re leaving. And never coming back.”

They galloped away from the castle as snowflakes drifted down from the skies. Aaron’s mouth was set into a firm line of determination. He didn’t look back once.

 


	10. 9) Alexander Is Confused by His Feelings

After Aaron’s hasty departure from the castle, Alexander had retreated into the West Wing to brood.

Upon entering, he caught sight of another face in the room—that is, the face of the man in the portrait. The face of the man he had once been. It stared at him almost accusingly from where it hung on the wall, its painted eyes dark and intense.

Washington was the one who had commissioned the painting. Alexander, who hated sitting in one place for too long (especially when there were more important tasks in need of attention), had initially objected to having his portrait painted. Washington, however, insisted that it was for “purposes of memorialization.”

“Indeed, one’s accomplishments may help to memorialize one’s greatness,” he said in response to Alexander’s arguments, “but portraits will allow the people of future generations to see you as more than just a disembodied name with a list of achievements. They will view you as a real _person_.”    

And since Washington was older and therefore more experienced, Alexander had relented—albeit somewhat reluctantly. The artist, one John Trumbull, was relatively unknown at the time, but his skill was remarkable. Although the portrait was merely an illustration, some of Alexander’s former self seemed to radiate from the canvas. Even now, as Alexander was staring at it, he could sense the passion, the fire, and even the vulnerability that the man in the portrait possessed.

Perhaps he could become that man once again—the one with fiery determination and foolish hope in his heart.

Alexander did not expect Aaron to give him a second chance. He did not deserve Aaron’s love or forgiveness. But at least he would be able to tell Aaron how he felt. Perhaps he would finally be able to prove to Aaron that he was more than the monster he appeared to be.

A gust of wind surged into the room, interrupting his ruminations. He’d left the balcony doors open, and through them he could see the beginnings of a snowstorm swirling through the deathly white skies. A jolt of panic lurched through his chest. He was briefly reminded of how Aaron had ran out the door wearing little more than a simple cloak over his clothes.

 _Oh, god._ _He could freeze out there._

He sprinted downstairs, where his friends were huddled together in quiet conversation. They looked up in surprise as he descended the last few stairs.

“Alex! You’re going after Burr?” Laurens asked.

He nodded. “I’m going to apologize to him. I just hope I’m not too late.”

“Go get him!” Lafayette cheered as Alexander threw open the door. The wind howled in his ears and whipped at his face, but he wasn’t one to allow a mere storm to stand in his way. He raced onward through the frosty winds.

Lafayette grinned. “Now _there’s_ the Alexander we all know.”

“And it only took him five years,” Washington muttered.

-

Aaron’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and memories as he rode away from the castle. They flurried through his head like the snowflakes that were tumbling across the sky.

He made an attempt to cast off these disruptive thoughts. After all, it is quite difficult to simultaneously focus on the task of riding a horse and on one’s angst. But the image of Alexander’s eyes—and the mixture of fear and anger that had burned in them—was seared into Aaron’s mind.

All of a sudden, William skidded to a halt, yanking Aaron out of his thoughts.

Aaron looked up to see what was wrong. His blood turned to ice.

A pack of wolves was stalking toward them, their yellow eyes glinting in the moonlight.

“Go, William!” Aaron pulled on the reins, and the two of them fled through the darkness. They wove around the trees, causing some of their clumsier pursuers to crash into the trunks. At length, William burst out of the forest and onto a frozen lake. He attempted to gallop across, but the ice was too thin to bear the weight of both man and horse.

A deafening crack rang through the air like a gunshot. Aaron felt the ground give out underneath them as they were plunged into the icy waters.

Fortunately for the two of them, William was able to swim. He slowly but surely propelled himself through the water and ice. A few of the wolves tried to follow him into the lake, but they were not so lucky. Not knowing how to swim, they disappeared beneath the waves.

William made it through the lake safely and scrambled onto the shore. He staggered into a clearing—where even more wolves were lying in wait for them. They surrounded the horse and its rider, growling.

William let out a frightened whinny. He reared up, throwing Aaron off his back and somehow getting his reins wrapped around a tree branch.  One of the wolves lunged at William, but Aaron came to the horse’s rescue and beat the wolf away with a stick. Aaron felt his arms jerk as another wolf grabbed the branch in its jaws. The wood splintered like bone between the wolf’s teeth, leaving Aaron with nothing but a useless stump.

 _So this is it_ , he thought as he made a futile attempt to shield William from the beasts with his body. _Mauled to death by wolves. What a lovely way to go_.

Another wolf leaped at him and ripped at his cloak, dragging him down to the snow. A flash of dark fur, and Aaron saw yet another wolf jumping at him with its fangs bared. He shut his eyes, hoping death would pass by quickly. Sally’s face flashed through his mind one last time.

_I’m so sorry…_

He expected death to rip through him in a flash of sharp, tearing pain. It never did. He never felt any pain, in fact.

Instead, he heard a familiar roar, followed by a yelp from the wolf.

Shocked, he opened his eyes to see none other than Alexander looming above him.

Alexander was throwing Aaron’s attacker into the distance. The other wolves flung themselves at Alexander, furious that he had gotten between them and their prey. One wolf tore into Alexander’s shoulder with its fangs, and the others focused their attack on the vulnerable area. After a violent tussle, Alexander managed to throw one of the wolves against a tree, knocking it out and splitting the tree trunk in half. The other wolves turned tail and bolted away in fear.

Alexander turned to face Aaron, his features contorted with a blend of misery and pain and despair. He crumpled lifelessly to the ground.

“Hamilton!” Aaron cried. He ran over to where Alexander was lying. A sinister patch of crimson was blossoming across Alexander’s cloak like a macabre rose. For a moment, Aaron feared that the beast was dead, but the faint rise and fall of his chest put that fear to rest.

Alexander’s eyes weakly fluttered open. “Burr…” He let out a feeble cough. “I d-didn’t mean…’m so sorry…”

“Shh, shh, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it now.” Aaron took off his own cloak to wrap it around the wound on Alexander’s arm. “We’re going to get you back to the castle, all right? Everything’s going to be fine.”

Aaron hurried over to William to untangle the reins from the branch. He guided the horse toward Alexander’s motionless form. Aaron was a relatively small man, so it took him a while to get the injured beast onto the horse’s back. But he finally managed it, with William’s help.

They trekked onward through the woods. Aaron was still trembling from the attack, but he tried to focus on his determination to get Alexander back to safety.

Alexander’s friends were horrified as soon as they saw Alexander’s limp, bloodstained body, but once Aaron hurriedly explained to them that Alexander was still alive, they were quick to help their friend into the den. They propped him up onto his armchair, where he was slowly revived by the warmth from the fireplace. Laurens went outside to tend to William, who was shivering and seemed about ready to collapse.

Washington advised Aaron on how to go about cleaning Alexander’s wound, and Eliza and Mr. Schuyler prepared some hot water for them. Aaron poured the water into a bowl and soaked a clean rag in the steaming liquid. He turned to Alexander, who was licking his wounds.

“Here now. Oh, no, don’t do that. Do you have any idea of the number of germs saliva contains? You’ll only cause an infection.”

Alexander glared at him.

Aaron sighed. “Just…hold still.” He delicately touched the rag to the wound. Alexander let out a roar.

The objects flinched.

“That hurts!” Alexander barked. “Isn’t there a less painful way to do this?”

“If you’d hold still, it wouldn’t hurt as much.”

“Well, if you hadn’t run away, this wouldn’t have happened!” Alexander retorted.

“If you hadn’t frightened me, I wouldn’t have run away,” Aaron said in counterpoint.

“Well, you shouldn’t have been in the West Wing!”

“Well, _you_ should learn to control your temper!”

Alexander opened his mouth to bring up another point, but he found himself distracted by Aaron’s eyes. They were usually so dark and unreadable. Now, however, they were illuminated from within by a defiant little fire. Alexander felt something deep inside of him unfurl, as though a spark was being fanned into a flame.

Confused by this strange new emotion, he felt too weary to argue anymore—which was very rare for him indeed. He slumped back against the chair and released a sigh of defeat.

The objects’ eyes widened in shock at Alexander’s show of resignation. They exchanged confused glances with each other. Could it be that Alexander was actually backing out of an argument? Inconceivable!

“Now, hold still,” said Aaron, bringing the cloth closer to Alexander’s arm. “This may sting a little.”

Alexander gritted his teeth as Aaron gently wiped the wound. It burned like the dickens, but this time he was able to suppress a roar of pain.

“By the way.” Aaron’s voice was tender and almost shy as he spoke again. “Thank you, Alexander, for saving my life. I, uh, suppose I would have made a nice hors d’oeuvre for the wolves had you not shown up.”

Alexander blinked in surprise. He looked up at Aaron, whose expression had gone soft. He felt his own face relax and his heartrate slow down.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Alexander felt a genuine smile begin to spread across his face. “You’re welcome, Aaron,” he murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, looks like they're finally making some progress!
> 
> Anyway, the next couple of chapters will be focusing on the development of Aaron/Alexander's relationship, so you can expect to see a bit more fluff and sweetness (and maybe even a little romance) going on :D  
> Let me know what you think in the comments or come talk to me at my tumblr [@aaronnburr](http://aaronnburr.tumblr.com)!


	11. 10) In Which the Burr-Hamilton Duel Is a Snowball Fight

Days passed, and Aaron was conflicted. He did miss his home and his sister, and his dream of sailing off to sea and embarking on a journey to some far-off land had not faded from his mind. But at the same time, he did enjoy living at the castle. It was certainly far more interesting than his former life, what with the enchanted objects and the myriad of rooms that could be explored.

Besides, the castle inhabitants were much kinder to him than the villagers had been. They treated him with both affection and respect, and Aaron almost felt comfortable enough to be able to call them his friends.  He learned about Laurens’ love of animal biology, Hercules’ talent for tailoring, Eliza’s dream of establishing an orphanage, and Angie the teacup’s passion for music. He even had the privilege to listen to several of Philip’s poems.

And then there was Alexander.

Strangely enough, Aaron felt differently toward the beast—friendlier, even. Alexander could be frightening at times; it would do him good to control that temper of his. Yet he was slowly improving, and Aaron was still interested in getting to know him better.

He shook off these thoughts and returned his attention to the winter landscape before him. A thick blanket of snow had fallen over the castle courtyard, causing everything to shimmer in the sunlight. Aaron had always loved winter, with its frosty beauty and refreshingly crisp air.  

“Come on, Will!” he yelled, and the horse broke into a gallop and frolicked among the snow.

Alexander was watching Aaron from a window. Aaron had never looked so alive (and so beautiful, Alexander added silently) as he did in that moment, laughing and riding his horse through the snow drifts. The tension had melted away from Aaron’s handsome face, and his eyes were even brighter than the snow that sparkled around him. He had such a nice laugh, too. It was so light and carefree, and Alexander would do anything to be the cause of that laughter.  

In short, Alexander was helpless for Aaron.

After Aaron finished playing in the snow, Aaron and Alexander sat down at the table to have breakfast.  When Aaron received his porridge, he dipped his spoon in and took a dainty bite. Alexander, on the other hand, had forgotten everything he had learned about table manners. He grabbed the bowl and thrust his face into it, gulping down porridge and splattering it across his face and the front of his shirt. Aaron looked on, startled, but made no comment.

Philip, trying to be helpful, nudged a spoon across the table. Alexander made a valiant attempt to grasp the utensil in his giant, clumsy paw. It fell and clattered against the table. He tried again, but he was met with no more success than the first attempt.

Finally, Aaron put aside his natural inclination for perfect etiquette. He placed his own spoon down and lifted his bowl as if in a toast. Alexander did the same, wearing an appreciative grin. They both proceeded to sip their breakfast out of their bowls.

The two of them strolled outside together to enjoy the beautiful winter day. Well, actually, to be more accurate, Aaron had to coax Alexander into going outside, as the latter was reluctant to leave behind the cozy warmth of the castle’s rooms.

“How are you _not_ bothered by the cold? It’s freezing out here!” Although Alexander was bundled up in two thick cloaks, he was still rather sensitive to the chill.

“Yes, but isn’t it so refreshing and invigorating? And it isn’t nearly as stifling as the heat.”

“Invigorating? I feel like a damned icicle,” Alexander grumbled.

Aaron chuckled. “Come on. A brisk walk should do you some good.” He grasped Alexander’s hand and led him through the courtyard.

“Have you ever had a snowball fight?” Aaron asked him as they walked. He remembered how he and Sally had loved to play outside during the wintertime as children. They would romp through the snow, catching snowflakes on their tongues, sledding down the hills, and, of course, flinging snowballs at each other. Sally was older, so she would always let Aaron win the fights. She would also teach Aaron the most efficient techniques for building snowballs.

“Um, no.” Alexander huffed, amused. “So not only do you like the cold, but you play in it, too?”

“ _Never_ had a snowball fight, hm? Ah, you poor, deprived man.” There was a mischievous glint in Aaron’s eyes that made Alexander’s heartrate pick up. “Well then, Mr. Hamilton, sir. I challenge you to a duel. An informal one, however—we won’t need to follow the standard procedures.”

“Hmm. I suppose it would be cowardice to back down from a duel. All right, then. I accept your challenge, Mr. Burr. I should warn you, though—I have excellent aim when it comes to throwing things. Don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

Aaron smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

They shook hands, and each man ran off to gather ammunition.

Aaron supplied himself with an entire armful of snowballs. Alexander, not to be outdone, was piling up heaps of snow to mold into one giant snowball.

Aaron hurled a lump of snow at Alexander, nailing him right in the shoulder. Alexander stood there in shock for a moment before grinning and hefting his massive snowball above his head. Aaron’s next snowball exploded across Alexander’s face, surprising him into dropping the pile of snow on himself. Alexander let out a playful growl and chased Aaron around a tree, but Aaron ducked around the other side and snuck up on him from behind.

By the end of the duel, Alexander was huddled on the ground, shivering and covered in snow.

Aaron smiled at him sympathetically. “You did pretty well for your first time.”

“Oh, that? That was nothing. I was just holding back. I simply didn’t want to, uh, overwhelm you with the force of my true potential. Could’ve easily crushed you, you know.”

“Is that so?” Aaron raised an eyebrow. “What happened to ‘Don’t expect me to go easy on you’?”

Alexander crossed his arms. “Well, we can’t _all_ be professional snowball fighters like _you_ , Burr,” he huffed, but his eyes gleamed with laughter.

“Oh, all right.” Aaron held out a hand to help Alexander up. “Perhaps we can both come to an agreement that duels are dumb and immature?”

Alexander stood, brushing the snow off his clothes. “I don’t know. I rather enjoyed this one, actually. Never thought I’d say something like this, but…I had fun dueling you.”

Aaron let out a laugh, sending a thrill through Alexander’s heart. “Let’s go back inside, shall we?”

Both the victor and loser headed back into the castle to thaw themselves out by the fireplace. As they conversed, they enjoyed a pot of Mr. Schuyler’s coffee, which he had flavored with cinnamon.

Energized by warmth and caffeine, Aaron and Alexander launched into a lively discussion of their favorite fictional writings. The conversation quickly turned to Shakespeare, as one of Alexander’s favorite plays was _Macbeth_. Much to Aaron’s amusement, Alexander recounted how his friends had once performed a reenactment of _Romeo and Juliet_ in the castle theatre. Lafayette had been double-casted as Mercutio and Tybalt (“Which made for a very bizarre rendition of the Mercutio-Tybalt duel,” Alexander added.). Aaron nearly choked on his coffee when Alexander imitated Lafayette’s overdramatic portrayal of the two characters.

The objects peeked in through the doorway, watching as Aaron and Alexander laughed and conversed with each other.

“Well, would you look at that?” Eliza remarked. “They’re actually getting along! And quite pleasantly, too.”

“Alexander has certainly matured a bit,” said Washington, smiling wistfully. “Aaron is a good match for him.”

“And who’d have guessed they’d come together on their own?” Lafayette added, thoughtful. “Maybe there really _is_ something happening between them. Something that wasn’t there before…”


	12. 11) Medieval Legends and Heart-to-Hearts

The following day found Alexander full of nervous energy. He was pacing anxiously back and forth in his room as he rambled on about his feelings.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone,” he confessed to his friends. “I want to do something for him, but I don’t know _what_. It can’t be just some predictable, commonplace gift.”

“Well, there are the usual things,” said Washington, recalling Alexander’s past (and very brief) amorous escapades. “Poems, love letters, promises you don’t intend to keep…”

“Ahh, no, no,” Lafayette interrupted. “This is different, Washington! This has to be something very special. Something that will spark his interest…”

Alexander gasped. “Wait a minute! I’ve got an idea.”

-

“So what’s this big surprise you have for me?” Aaron asked as Alexander led him down one of the castle’s hallways. “I must admit, I’m rather curious.” They stopped in front of a pair of wooden doors.

Alexander was practically bubbling with excitement, which Aaron couldn’t help but find endearing. “Your surprise is waiting right behind this door,” Alexander explained, laying a hand on the polished golden door handles. “But first, you have to close your eyes. Dramatic reveals are absolutely necessary for surprises as grand as this one.”

Aaron shut his eyes, smiling, and Alexander gently guided him through the entrance.

“May I open them now?” Aaron asked.  “The suspense is killing me.”

“No, no, not yet. Wait here.” Alexander went over to draw back the curtains. After he did so, brilliant sunlight spilled into the room. “All right! Now!”

Aaron opened his eyes—and gasped. He was standing inside of an enormous library, with vast shelves stretching from floor to ceiling and grand staircases swirling up to a second level. Washington had been correct about there being mountains of books; the shelves were completely filled. There was not a single empty space to be seen.

Aaron’s heart soared. “I-I can’t believe it. I’ve never seen so many books in all my life! It’s incredible.”

“It’s yours.”

“What?” Aaron looked up at Alexander, shocked. “All—all of this?”

“Yes—well, that is, if you want it?” Uncertainty crept into Alexander’s tone as he noticed Aaron’s overwhelmed expression. “Sorry. Is it too much? I mean, you don’t have to accept it if you don’t want to. I know it’s a lot for one person to take, but I know how much you love books, so, you know, I just wanted—”

“Alexander. It’s wonderful.” Aaron smiled. He was not one to initiate physical contact, but he took Alexander’s hand in his own and patted it gently. It was almost the equivalent of a full-on embrace for him. “I love it. Thank you.”

“Oh, good! I knew you would like it. So where would you like to explore first? We have books of poetry, atlases, novels, political treatises…oh, and we also have plenty of Shakespeare’s works. His plays, his sonnets, his narrative poems…”

Aaron’s eyes shone as he gazed up at the towering bookshelves. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Well, what are you in the mood for?”

“Hmm. Have you got anything with swordfights and magic spells?”

“Fantasy, huh? Interesting choice.”

Aaron could feel himself cringing inwardly. “I know. It’s a bit childish, isn’t it?”

Alexander frowned. “Not at all. I mean, I think we all need a break from reality now and then. After all, plenty of fantasy authors have made important contributions to the literary world. My mother even dedicated an entire section to this genre when she was acquiring material for the library’s collection. Right this way, I believe.”

Aaron followed him over to a section of shelves, which were filled with books so vividly colored that they seemed to almost glow in the light that radiated from the windows. The titles on the spines were printed in gold and gleamed as though the words themselves were made from bits of sunlight.

Aaron browsed through the titles, searching for one that would strike his fancy.

“Oh, this is one of my favorites!” he exclaimed as he grabbed a book from the shelf. Its cover was dressed in fabric the color of cranberries and bordered with swirling gold designs—far more beautiful than the copy that Aaron had owned. “It’s the story of King Arthur. Have you ever read it?”

“I have! I haven’t read very many fantasy novels in the past, but my friends and I did enjoy reading the Arthurian Legend. Lafayette always liked to think of himself as the Lancelot of our friend group.” Alexander paused, gazing pensively at the book’s cover. His tone was tinged with melancholy as he resumed speaking. “But it has been quite a while since I’ve last read it. I don’t really remember the details of the story.”

“Well, that can be easily remedied. Perhaps you’d like to read this first?” He held the volume out to Alexander, who quickly backed away.

“No! I mean—I _can’t_ …”

“Can’t?” Aaron’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? I thought you loved books.”

Alexander sighed. “You’re right. I _did_ love reading, once. It’s just…I…I can’t anymore. I’ve lost the ability to. It’s difficult to explain.” He shook his head. “It’s a cruel joke, isn’t it? This entire realm of literature, and I can’t even read a single word of it.”

Aaron’s smile grew soft. “You know, it just so happens that this is the perfect book to read aloud. We could read this together, if you want. Come here, sit by me.” They sat side by side on a cushioned bench, and Aaron opened the book to the first page. He quietly cleared his throat. “Here’s part one: Arthur’s possession of the sword Excalibur. Our tale begins thus…”

Alexander was paying close attention to the story as Aaron read, but he still felt his gaze wandering toward Aaron’s mouth. He had a lovely voice—deep and smooth and velvety—and Alexander knew that he would never tire of hearing it.

Aaron found that his own gaze was drifting toward Alexander’s eyes, which—despite the rest of his exterior—closely resembled that of a human. They were bright and intense, as though there were stars burning within them.

That was one thing that had always intrigued Aaron about Alexander. His deep brown eyes were always alight with some rich hue of emotion. He was so _vibrant_ —so full of life. He never seemed afraid to speak, never tried to hide how he felt. Aaron sometimes wondered how his life would have been different if he were more like Alexander. He would certainly have made a few enemies back in the village, but chances were, he would have found people who passionately agreed with him. He would have discussed women’s rights with Angelica, would have engaged in political debates with Adams or Monroe—hell, he would have even had the nerve to stand up to George. But Aaron was not like Alexander, and thus he would simply be remembered as that odd, quiet man who rarely ever spoke—who inspired neither hatred nor love in people’s hearts…

He shoved this thought aside. Now was not the time to dwell on the past.

He read on, “ _Knowing now, that this was indeed the legendary sword called ‘Excalibur,’ Arthur tried to pull it from the stone. He tried once to no avail. He tried a second time, but still, he could not pull it out. Then, for the third time, Arthur drew forth the sword…_ ”

“So that means he’s the king now!” Alexander burst out.

Aaron chuckled. “Wait and see.” That was one more thing that differentiated the two of them—Alexander was impatient, while Aaron was willing to wait for the outcome. But at the same time, it marked one more similarity between them: their passion for reading.

“I suppose that’s one of the reasons why I loved books so much,” Alexander mused. “It’s amazing how they can do that.”

Aaron eyed him curiously. “Do what?”

“Take me away from this place. Make me forget for a little while. Forget who I…” His voice faltered. “…what I am…”

Aaron nodded in understanding. “I know what you mean,” he murmured. “In the town where I come from, the people think I’m odd.”

“You? Odd?” The tender expression returned to Alexander’s face as he regarded Aaron. It was difficult to imagine people shunning this gentle, charming man, but the look of sadness that Aaron wore was genuine.

“Yes. I know this may sound ridiculous, but ever since I was a child, I’ve always dreamed of sailing off to sea in a grand ship and exploring different countries. I—I wanted to go on the adventures that I’d read about in my books.”

“But why didn’t you go? What were you waiting for?”

“There were several reasons. It’s terribly expensive to travel by ship, not to mention dangerous. There’s always the possibility of the ship sinking, or of getting lost, or of running out of food and supplies. And I didn’t want to leave Sally behind. It’s just the two of us living together, so I couldn’t risk abandoning her.”

“So that’s why people shunned you? Because you wanted to travel? That seems like a rather shallow reason to spurn someone.”

“Well, that wasn’t quite it.” Aaron sighed. “I also had this habit of keeping to myself. I…I put up walls between myself and other people. I was always so careful to say the right thing, to hide my true feelings and opinions. No matter how strongly I felt about something, I made sure to stay silent, for fear of being divisive. I just felt so much more comfortable sequestering myself behind those walls and losing myself in my books and daydreams. It was just so much _easier_ , you know? I didn’t have to face the real world and all of its dangers and obstacles…didn’t have to face people’s judgments and insults…didn’t have to think about loneliness or _death_ … But in the process, I ended up distancing myself from the rest of them. No one ever really _knew_ me.” He shut his eyes, shaking his head. “I don’t know of all the challenges and struggles that you’re facing, and I am aware that my own situation is much different than yours. But what I am saying is, I know how it feels to be…different. And I know how lonely that can be.” With that, he fell silent, his eyes trained on the book. He had already revealed more about himself than he’d intended to.

“I suppose we have more in common than I thought, after all,” Alexander said softly.

Aaron lifted his gaze to meet Alexander’s. As soon as he did so, he was stricken by how kind, how gentle, Alexander’s expression appeared. He ducked his head, suddenly feeling rather shy.

Aaron let out a shaky breath and continued with the story. _“For the third time, Arthur drew forth the sword, and there arose from the people a great shout: Arthur is king!”_

Alexander grinned. “I told you so,” he teased, nudging him with his shoulder.

Aaron beamed back at him, leaning ever so slightly into the touch. “So you did.” Was this, he wondered, what it felt like to find someone who could truly understand you? To be able to—despite superficial differences—form a real connection? He had never made himself vulnerable to someone like that before, but now that he had done it, he felt almost…pleasant, somehow. It felt strange, no doubt, but there was something freeing about it.

The sound of Alexander’s voice interrupted his pondering.

“Aaron? May I…tell you something?” Despite the slight hesitation, his voice was firm with resolve, as though he had made a decision and was determined to follow through with it.

“Of course. What is it?”

He took a deep breath. “Well, since you opened up to me about your dream and your life back at home, I suppose it’s only fair that I should tell you more about who I really am. You know how I told you that I’d lost the ability to read?”

Aaron nodded.

“It was actually a lot more complicated than that. You see, I wasn’t always…like _this_.” And so he finally explained his story—about the spell, about Maria the enchantress, about how his own arrogance and rash action had brought the curse upon himself and his friends. As he spoke, he felt as though a weight were being lifted from his shoulders. Which was, he supposed, one of the reasons why he loved speaking so much. Holding his thoughts and opinions in was nothing but a burden to him.

The only part he left out was the part about the rose. It didn’t seem fair to tell Aaron about how the curse could be lifted. He was the one who had brought it upon himself; it was his duty, and his alone, to set things right.

There was a moment of silence as his words sank in.

“Well,” said Aaron after a pause, “I suppose your story would explain quite a bit.”

“Wait, so you believe me?”

“Of course I do. I’ve read so many fairytales—how could I not? Besides, I’ve seen a teacup recite poetry and a candelabra perform a dance routine. Sorcery is almost plausible at this point.” A light dawned in Aaron’s eyes as a memory occurred to him. “So that portrait of the man in the West Wing…is it you?”

“Yes. Doesn’t quite do me justice, does it?” Alexander remarked, his tone wry.

Aaron frowned. “But, Alexander, I…I only wish there was something I could _do_. To help you, somehow.”

Alexander smiled sadly at the floor. “You don’t need to do anything. You simply being here, listening to me, is enough.”

“If you’re sure. But thank you for confiding in me. I know it isn’t always easy to speak about one’s past.”

“And, uh, thank _you_. For letting me ramble about myself.”

Aaron studied the other man’s expression. Perhaps there was more to each of them than the other had originally assumed. “Alexander…may I ask something of you?”

“What’s that?”

“A second chance. Would you…” A slight tremor laced through Aaron’s voice. He cleared his throat. Why was he so nervous? “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight? We could, ah, try to get to know each other even better.”

If Aaron had been nervous before, all traces of his anxiety melted away at the sight of the warm smile that brightened Alexander’s face.

“That would be nice,” said Alexander, and Aaron couldn’t have been happier.


	13. 12) Jefferson Only Cares About Votes (and His Dinner)

Back in the village tavern, three men were conspiring together at a shady table in the corner. Two of the men were, as you may have assumed, George and Seabury, but the third was new. This was Thomas Jefferson, the owner of the asylum, who had recently returned from a trip to Paris.

Once he had arrived at his estate, he had barely even gotten a chance to set his bags down when a servant came running up to him with a letter from George, requesting that he meet him at the tavern at once. Apparently, he was in some sort of desperate situation that was in dire need of fixing, and only Jefferson could help him solve it. Jefferson—prompted more by curiosity than an actual desire to help George—had traveled over to the tavern in his carriage.

Seeing as he was the owner of such a dreary, horrible place as an asylum, one would assume that he’d look a little more drab and dull. Not so. On the contrary, he was decked out entirely in magenta, which he believed brightened up the place. This, perhaps, was not very convenient for George, who wanted to keep their conversation as secret and unnoticed as possible.

“Mr. Jefferson,” George said with a courteous smile. “I trust that you had a pleasant time in France?”

“Yes, yes,” Jefferson said, impatient to discover just what was so important. His servants were preparing him a nice homecoming dinner, so he was eager to return to his estate and enjoy it. “So what’d I miss while I was away? Judging by the contents of your letter, quite a bit has happened here.”

George launched into his story. “It’s like this. I had my heart set on marrying Burr.”

Jefferson interrupted, frowning. “Burr? As in Aaron Burr? The inventor’s brother?”

“That’s what I said!” Seabury blurted out, but was silenced by a threatening glare from George.

“Yes, the inventor’s brother. I fail to see why that is so difficult to comprehend. Anyway, after arranging our wedding, I attempted to propose to him at his house, but he…er…well. Let’s just say that the price of my love was not a price he was willing to pay.”

“Burr turned him down _flat_ ,” Seabury helpfully clarified, earning him yet another glare from George.

Jefferson hid his smirk by taking a sip from his mug.

George continued, “So I came up with a plan—a very clever one, might I add. Everyone knows Burr’s sister is a lunatic. She was in here raving about some beast…”

“Sarah is harmless.” It just so happened that Jefferson was courting Madison the bookseller at the time, and although Madison thought of Aaron as odd, he nevertheless seemed fond of the boy. He had mostly decent things to say about Aaron and his sister. “I mean, she may be a little eccentric, but she doesn’t exactly pose a danger to our society.”

“I am aware of that. But the point is, Burr would do anything at all to keep her from being incarcerated.”

“Right!” said Seabury. “Burr would rather _die_ than be married—er, I mean, than have his sister be locked up.”

Jefferson arched an eyebrow. “All right, so let me get this straight. You want me to throw Burr’s sister in the asylum unless he agrees to marry you?”

George nodded. “That’s the idea.”

Jefferson took a nice long draught of Sam Adams the beverage. “Well. It’s certainly a very devious plan, I’ll give you that.”

“So you’ll help.” George leaned forward, his eyes glittering.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Mm.” George settled back with a shrewd, knowing smile. “If I’m not mistaken, I believe that there is an election coming up for the town’s new mayor, and that you are one of its candidates. You are a very worthy candidate, but the people have their doubts. They are hesitant to allow the keeper of an asylum to obtain a position of political power. You are well aware of the influence I hold in this town, I’m sure. I am very capable of steering the entire populace’s opinion in favor of one candidate or the other.”

“So if I assist in your plan, you’ll be able to get me the votes?”

“You have my word, Mr. Jefferson.” George’s expression was entirely solemn as he extended his hand. “The townspeople will be _begging_ for you to become their next mayor. And all you need to do is put some insignificant little woman in your asylum.”

Jefferson had a feeling he would regret this later on, but he took the hand in his own and shook it anyway. “You have yourself a deal.” It was almost as though he were making a deal with the devil, he mused to himself.

The grin that slowly grew across George’s face was, indeed, very devilish.

_Oh well_ , Jefferson thought with a shrug. Soon, this would be Aaron’s problem, not his.

-

Sally was recovering from her illness quite nicely, thanks to Dr. Angelica Schuyler-Bartow’s medical wisdom and Bellamy’s vigilance.

However, her anxiety over Aaron’s predicament had not subsided any.

“I have to get to the castle. Aaron is in danger!” she cried. “There’s no telling what that horrible beast will do to him!”

“I’m afraid you won’t be going anywhere for a while,” Angelica said gently. “In order for you to fully recover, it is imperative that you remain in bed. It won’t be good for you to go outside, especially now that the weather is getting much colder.”

Sally sighed.

Angelica patted the blankets with a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Reeve. I’m sure Aaron will return soon. Try and get some rest now, all right?”

Angelica walked downstairs to where Bellamy was waiting. He was standing near the bookshelf, absently flipping through one of Aaron’s books.

“How is she?” Bellamy asked.

“Physiologically, she’s better. Mentally, on the other hand…she still believes that a beast named Alexander Hamilton is holding her brother prisoner, so make of that what you will.”

Bellamy’s eyes widened. “You aren’t going to have her committed, are you?”

Angelica shook her head. “Dear god, no. I wouldn’t dream of sending her to that horrid asylum.” She was, in fact, in the midst of writing a pamphlet denouncing the treatment of the asylum’s patients. “But it’s probably best that I come around every so often to check up on her.”

“Hmm.” Bellamy looked pensive. “Where _is_ Burr, anyway? I haven’t seen him in quite a while. I know that the idea of a monster living in a castle may seem a little far-fetched, but have you considered that Mrs. Reeve’s concerns may perhaps be…valid?”

Angelica glanced at the cover of the book Bellamy was reading. She wryly noted that it was a fairytale anthology. “I’m sure that Burr is fine, wherever he may be. You know how he is. He’s probably wandered off to pursue one of those adventures he’s always daydreaming about. I doubt that there really is a beast living in a castle somewhere. Mrs. Reeve’s protective instincts are simply taking over; she’s deluding herself into believing that her brother must be in some terrible danger. Which is perfectly understandable, seeing as she’s lost other family members in the past.”

Angelica dared not confess this aloud to Bellamy, but she knew what Sally was going through. Ever since her own siblings, Eliza and Peggy, had disappeared along with their father, things had never been quite the same. Angelica was a woman of science and common sense, but even her imagination had begun to run wild. For months, she’d been plagued with nightmares about what could have happened to her family—haunting nightmares that caused her to wake up gasping in the dead of night, covered in a cold sweat. She’d at least had Theodosia to comfort her and to ease her fear and anxiety.

“I do hope you’re right.” Bellamy placed the book back on the shelf and looked up at the clock. “Well, it’s getting late. I’d better retire for the night. Thank you for everything, doctor.”

“The pleasure was all mine.” Angelica was about to step out the door when she turned around. “Mr. Bellamy? Take good care of Sarah, will you? Not that you haven’t already, but…”

Bellamy smiled. “Yes, I understand. Good night, doctor.”

“Good night.”

After shutting the door behind Angelica, Bellamy headed up the staircase toward Sally’s room. She was sleeping soundly as he peered in. A gentle smile tugged at his mouth. Sally would sometimes complain that Bellamy fussed over her too much; he was constantly making sure that she drank enough fluids and took the right amount of medication and that her sheets were tucked around her just so. But he truly _was_ worried about her, which surprised him. Just one week ago, he would have—like the other people in the tavern—simply ignored her plight and her claims that a beast was roaming about. Now, however…

He left and walked over to the guest room. At first, he had been content with sleeping on the couch in the parlor, but Sally had insisted that he sleep in an actual bedroom. He’d accepted this rather gratefully.

Bellamy was out as soon as his head hit the pillow. It had been a long day.

It turns out that Sally—like Aaron—had a sly side. As soon as she could hear Bellamy’s soft snores from the room next to hers (the house had thin walls), she slipped out of bed to grab her coat and shoes. She crept silently down the stairs and out the door. Once she had retrieved a lantern and lit it, she set off on her quest to rescue Aaron.

If no one would help her to save her brother, then she would go alone, no matter how treacherous the way was.  She was determined to find the castle and free Aaron, no matter what it took.

Minutes later, after Sally had gotten a head-start on her journey, George, Seabury, and Jefferson arrived at the Burr estate.

George strode up to the front door and knocked politely. When no one came to the door, he knocked even harder. “Aaron? Sarah?” he called.

No answer. Bellamy was fast asleep.

Frustrated, George attempted to open the door himself, but to no avail. He ran around the house, trying every door he came upon. Each and every one was, fortunately, locked.

Jefferson rolled his eyes as George came stomping back. “Must we deal with this tonight? They’re probably sleeping at this hour.” He had a delicious (albeit very late) dinner to get to, but it was probably cold by now. The servants would have to dump it out and make more.

George ignored him, pointing at Seabury. “You! Wait near the porch. They’ll come out eventually. And when they do, we’ll be ready for them.”

Seabury wilted. “But…”

George, his irritation flaring, grabbed Seabury by the neck and dumped him into the snowbank next to the porch. “And don’t even think about moving from that spot!” he hissed.

“Well! Seems like you have everything under control for the time being,” said Jefferson. “May I go home now? I’m, uh, expected there soon.”

George sighed. “Fine. But be prepared to carry out the plan as soon as I contact you.”

With that, Jefferson darted off and clambered into his carriage. Again, he got that feeling that he was making a bad decision by helping George—a tug at his conscience, if you will. But he pushed the feeling away. Apprehension wouldn’t be good for his appetite.

As the carriage rolled toward his mansion, he dozed off, dreaming of fresh pasta and imported wine…


	14. 13) A Winter's Ball

That evening in the castle, Alexander was busy preparing for his big night with Aaron.

“Tonight is the night!” Lafayette trilled as he bounced around the bathtub. “Can you believe it? We’ll all be human again soon! Oh, I can hardly wait!” 

“I’m not sure I can do this,” Alexander sighed.

Lafayette looked up in surprise. “You aren’t? _Alex_. Where is your boldness? Your daring? Your intrepidity? There is no time to be timid.”

“Bold. Daring. Intrepid,” Alexander echoed, emerging from the water and drying himself off with a towel.

“The ambiance will be perfect,” Lafayette continued as they entered the bedroom. “There will be beautiful music. Romantic candlelight, provided by yours truly. And when the time is right, you will confess your love.”

“Right. Confess my love,” Alexander muttered.

“Oui. Laurens, are you ready?” Lafayette turned toward the coatrack, who was waiting near the vanity (which Alexander had conveniently not destroyed). Laurens was the only object with “hands,” so he had been assigned to fix Alexander’s hair. Unfortunately, he’d had no previous experiences with hairdressing.

“You bet!” Laurens grinned, rubbing his hands together. “Time for me to work my magic.”

“Yes! Love the enthusiasm.”

“I don’t think I can do this,” Alexander interjected. “I’ve never confessed my love like this to someone before.”

Lafayette raised an eyebrow questioningly. “You care for Aaron, do you not?”

“More than anything.”

“Well, then you must tell him,” Lafayette asserted. “It is as simple as that.”

“There!” Laurens finished fixing Alexander’s hair and stepped back to admire his handiwork.  “Um…”

He’d pulled Alexander’s mane into a curly, puffy ponytail that sat high atop his head. Lafayette had told Laurens to make it “fancy,” so he’d added in a jumble of bows and ribbons as well.

Lafayette’s eyes bulged. He laughed nervously. “Oh, Alex. You look so…so…”

“Stupid,” Alexander finished for him.

“Hmm. Not quite the word I was looking for. Just…extravagant. Try something simpler, John.”

Laurens nodded and got to work.

Alexander continued, “It’s much easier said than done. I mean, I don’t even know how to begin.”

“Hm…perhaps you can start with a compliment? Tell him that his eyes shine brighter than the stars themselves, that his voice is richer than velvet, that his smile would put the sun to shame, that his skin is softer than the finest silk, that his hair—”

“He’s bald.”

“Right. That his—head—is smoother than a…a chocolate bonbon!”

Laurens let out a snort.

Alexander buried his face in his hands. “This is hopeless.”

“Oh, come, Alex. You can think of something! You are a writer, after all. You are better with words than I.”

“This is different! This isn’t an essay, or a speech, or a debate, this is me pouring out my soul to someone who has the power to choose whether or not to break us all free from this wretched curse. His decision, and our fates, will hinge directly on everything I say to him. If I don’t get this right, you’ll never get to be human again, Laf. You and John and Eliza and Herc and Washington and Mr. Schuyler and…and…”

“And Peggy,” Lafayette chipped in.

“And Peggy, and everyone else. I need—I need to make this perfect.” His voice grew soft. “Aaron is…unlike anyone I’ve ever met before, and someone as brave and intelligent and kind as he deserves to know exactly how loved he is.”

Laurens and Lafayette were quiet for a while, considering this.

Finally, Laurens spoke.

“Don’t put too much pressure on yourself, Alex. Love—it isn’t a _decision_ , or a choice. It’s not something that can be forced,” he said gently. “Just…be genuine. That will be enough.”

“Ah, yes. John is right. Just be yourself, and let things happen naturally. After all, Aaron seems to viewing you in a new light as well…” Lafayette’s voice trailed off meaningfully.

Strengthened by his friends’ encouraging words, Alexander nodded resolutely. “Right. I got this.”

Lafayette brightened. “That's the spirit, mon ami!”

After Laurens had arranged Alexander’s hair into a neat, simple ponytail, Alexander was clad in a dark blue suit trimmed with golden embroidery. As he descended the staircase, he caught sight of Aaron in an elegant champagne-colored coat that shimmered softly in the light. Underneath the coat was a gold waistcoat and a pearl-white dress shirt with delicate ruffles at the neck. A gentle smile graced Aaron’s features as he noticed Alexander.

Momentarily stunned by the other man’s beauty, Alexander felt his breath catch, but he managed to grin back at him.

Aaron glanced down at his suit, chuckling. “It’s a bit more flamboyant than what I would normally wear, but Herc insisted that I would look ‘magical’ in this.”

“You look enchanting,” Alexander breathed.

“Thank you.” Aaron felt his heart warm at the compliment.

Alexander bowed and offered his arm. “Shall we?”

Aaron bowed as well. The two of them swept into the dining room arm-in-arm.

A luscious meal had been laid out for them: rich elderberry wine, roasted duck, and a bubbling tureen of hot vegetable soup. Alexander had spent nearly the entire afternoon practicing how to hold a kitchen utensil, so this time he actually managed to raise the spoon to his mouth without spilling soup on his shirt. Aaron seemed delighted by this new development.

However, most of their time together was spent engaged in conversation, as opposed to eating. As the teacart was rolled in, the pair began exchanging stories about their pasts. Aaron, with some encouragement from Alexander, related to him how he had once instigated a fire at a ball.

“It was purely by accident, I swear. I wanted to impress my dancing partner, so I was trying to perform this elaborate dance move that I had read about somewhere. But alas, some damned fool had spilled his wine on the floor and neglected to clean it up, so I slipped on the drink and bumped into a candelabra, which toppled over and somehow set the tablecloth ablaze. Anyway, the table was erupting in flames, people were screaming, I was in a panic, I wasn’t really thinking, so I simply grabbed the nearest vessel of liquid and threw it at the cloth. That liquid happened to be whiskey, so, of course, it didn’t do much to extinguish the fire. Luckily, there were no casualties—save for the tablecloth and my poor jacket. The sleeve was badly singed.” He miserably placed his chin in his hands. “It was my favorite coat, too…” he mumbled.

Alexander laughed, prompting a small grin to cross Aaron’s face. “Well, you certainly knew how to liven up a formal gathering. It’s funny, though…you always struck me as this suave, graceful sort of gentleman.”

“I can assure you that I am much less suave once you really get to know me.”

“So you have even more stories like that?”

“Oh, I could fill an entire book with every little disaster I’ve faced. Perhaps I’ll let you listen to them all one day.” Aaron sighed and took a sip of his tea. “But rest assured that I haven’t danced since.”

“No?” An idea sprang into Alexander’s mind. “Perhaps we can change that.”

“Uh, pardon?”

Alexander’s eyes were lit up with an almost playful gleam. “Look. I have this enormous ballroom that hasn’t been used in years. We might as well make use of it, right? And I think we can easily avoid setting things on fire this time. All we need to do is make sure that Lafayette doesn’t get in the way.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t danced in so long…I’m afraid I won’t be very good at it.”

“Come on,” Alexander coaxed. “You gave me my first snowball fight! The least I can do is give you your first non-disastrous dance.”

Aaron smiled. “Well, all right,” he relented, and Alexander took Aaron’s hand into his own, lifting him up and leading him toward the ballroom.

It was rather fortunate that the castle staff had been prepared for an occasion such as this. The ballroom—which had once been dark and dusty from years of neglect—was gleaming and radiant as Aaron and Alexander stepped through the door. It looked as magnificent as Alexander remembered it.

Admittedly, Alexander had never been too fond of dancing. The extravagant parties that his father had held during Alexander’s youth had mostly been for the purpose of status and show. But _this_ —a simple, quiet moment between himself and a person toward whom he felt genuinely fond—this was different. It felt more intimate, more _real_.

As none of the objects had fingers, they could not play any instruments such as a harp or piano or violin. Fortunately, Eliza had an exquisite singing voice. A slow, sweet melody wove through the air as Aaron and Alexander’s dance commenced.

Alexander took the lead, gently placing Aaron’s hand on his shoulder and resting his own hand on Aaron’s waist. It had been a while since he had last danced, but he’d received too many lessons and attended too many parties to truly forget.

He carefully guided Aaron through the first steps of their waltz. At first, their movements were stiff—awkward and uncertain. But as time passed, and Alexander grew accustomed to the beat of the melody, he could feel his confidence rising. The motions came almost naturally to him, and he could feel Aaron relaxing into his arms. As the song rose toward a crescendo, the dancers were gliding across the floor, their movements graceful and fluid.

The ballroom was spectacular, with its glossy marble floors and its mural-covered walls. The crystal chandeliers sparkled above them, and the vast windows revealed sheets of dark velvet night and glittering stars. But the two dancers were lost in the music and in each other’s eyes.

After the pair’s dance and Eliza’s ballad came to an end, Aaron and Alexander walked outside to the balcony.  The winter air was cool and bracing, and the full moon bathed the terrace in its silver glow. Now, Alexander supposed, was as good a time as any to make a romantic confession.

Alexander took a few seconds to summon up his courage. Here it was—the moment of truth.

_Just be yourself. Let things happen naturally_.

“Aaron?”

Aaron lifted his eyes to meet Alexander’s.

“Are you…happy here with me?” Alexander asked.

Aaron hesitated. “Yes,” he murmured, gazing pensively into the distance. His expression became closed-off and unreadable.

Alexander’s heart fell a little at Aaron’s hesitation. “What is it?”

Aaron shook his head, smiling sadly. “It's nothing. It's just…I wish that I could see my sister again, just for a moment. I miss her so much.”

Alexander knitted his brow in concentration. The solution came to him almost immediately. “There is a way,” he said quickly. “Follow me.”

The pair adjourned to the West Wing, where Alexander handed Aaron the magic mirror.

“This mirror will show you anything, anything you wish to see,” he explained. “You only need to ask.”

“I-I’d like to see Sally, please,” Aaron told the mirror.

As soon as the words fell from his lips, the mirror instantly flashed to life. Aaron flinched at the bright green light. When he opened his eyes again, an image of Sally was stumbling across the mirror’s surface. She was wandering through a snowy forest, aimless and lost. Aaron watched in horror as his sister slipped and fell to the ground, coughing.

“Oh no. She’s sick! She might be dying!” Aaron cried, frantic. “And she’s all alone!” He turned to look at Alexander, whose own eyes were dark with concern.

Alexander averted his gaze to risk a glance at the dying rose. A single petal hung precariously from the stem—the only thing that stood between him and his doom. If Aaron left, Alexander risked damning both himself and his friends to their fate.

But when he turned back to Aaron, he could see the pain, the desperation, shining from the depths of those deep brown eyes. A sharp stab of pain shot through his heart. Aaron was a _person_ —he didn’t deserve to be denied his freedom for the sake of something that didn’t truly concern him. Freedom was a right, not a privilege.

_Can anyone be truly, sincerely happy if they are not free_?  Alexander knew the answer to this question all too well.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Then you must go to her,” he said.

“What?”

“I release you. You may go. It isn’t right for you to be kept here any longer.”

Aaron stared at him with a mixture of joy and disbelief. “You mean…I’m free?”

“Yes. I know how much your sister means to you. Please, just go to her. Make sure she’s safe.”

“Oh, thank you. Hold on, Sally! I’m on my way.” He handed the mirror back to Alexander.

Alexander pressed the mirror back into Aaron’s hands. “No, keep it. Take it with you, so you’ll always have a way to look back and remember me.”

“Thank you for understanding how much she needs me.”

Alexander was about to say something—perhaps that he needed Aaron just as much. But the words wouldn’t come.

Aaron paused, then took Alexander’s hand in his own and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Good-bye, Alex.” He turned and rushed out of the room.

And just like that, he was gone.

Washington happened to be walking by at that moment. He marched through the door, clearing his throat. “Well, well, Alexander. Everything is moving along quite splendidly—like _clockwork_ , I guess you could say. I must confess that I had my doubts at first, but I think you’ve really proven yourself.” He beamed up at Alexander. “I’m…proud of you, my son.”

In another circumstance, Washington’s compliment would have elevated Alexander’s spirits. He had always harbored a deep admiration for the general. But now, he was barely listening. He stood there, staring at the spot where Aaron had been, as though he were frozen to the floor. Aaron was free, but Alexander would be imprisoned in the beast’s body for the rest of his life.

“I let him go,” he heard himself say.

Washington started. “You _what_? But—son, how could you do that? He was your last chance!”

“I had to. I couldn’t keep him here any longer.”

“But… _why_?”

“Because I love him.” Alexander’s voice trembled with emotion. He closed his eyes and silently willed the floor to swallow him up. “I’m sorry, sir,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry…”

Washington stood there in shock for a few moments. He may have been a no-nonsense, war-hardened veteran, but at heart, he was a man who cared deeply for his friends. Not only had Alexander given up his happiness, but he had also let go of the one person who could have broken them all free from the spell.

Washington spared Alexander one last pitying glance before hurrying off to tell the others.

“He did _what_?” they exclaimed in unison.

“Yes, I’m afraid it’s true,” said Washington, looking very dejected.

“Mr. Burr’s going away?” Philip cried.

“But Alex was so close!” Laurens pointed out. “And his hair was so perfect…”

Eliza smiled wistfully. “After all this time, he’s finally learned to love,” she murmured.

“That’s it, then! That should break the spell, shouldn’t it?” Lafayette asked hopefully.

“It’s not enough. _Burr_ —” Washington uttered Aaron’s name like a curse, “—doesn’t love him in return.”

“And now it’s too late,” Eliza lamented.

They bowed their heads mournfully.

From inside the West Wing, a heart-wrenching roar, full of sorrow and anguish, pierced the sky.


	15. 14) A Brief Interlude

Without bothering to change out of the fancy suit, Aaron rushed into the stable to saddle up William. As they galloped across the bridge, he thought he could hear an agonized roar ring out amid the howling of the wind.

To his surprise, he realized that his eyes were wet with tears. He swiftly wiped them away with his sleeve and shook his head to clear it. No time to think about that now. He had to find his sister.

His heartrate quickened at the thought of Sally. For a moment, he grew sick with fear. What could have happened to her?

“Sally? Where are you?” Aaron called as they ventured into the woods. “Sally!” But the only answer to his desperate cries was the cold wind’s lonely wail.

He consulted the mirror, which conjured up an image of Sally’s limp form lying near a crooked tree. Aaron’s heart dropped at the sight, but, fortunately, he recognized the tree as one that lay not too far from their estate.

“Let’s go, Will!” He gave the reins a flick, and the horse shot off through the forest like a bullet.

As they neared the tree that the mirror had shown, Aaron found his sister crumpled on the ground in a heap. He carefully lifted her into his arms and onto William’s back. They sped over to the Burr estate.

As soon as Aaron opened the door, he nearly crashed into Bellamy, who was heading out right at that exact moment. He had noticed Sally missing from her room and had flown into a panic before setting off to search for her.

In their shock, neither of the men noticed Seabury scurrying out of the snowdrift next to the porch.

“Burr!” Bellamy exclaimed. “You’re back! And you have Sally. Oh, thank god!” He glanced down at Aaron’s glimmering gold ensemble. “Nice suit.”

“Oh—uh—thank you,” Aaron stammered. He peered at the doorway past Bellamy’s shoulder with a bemused expression, as though he were trying to confirm that this was, in fact, his house. “Were you in my house?” He shook his head. “Never mind. We have to get Sally inside.”

They rushed upstairs, and Aaron laid Sally onto her bed. He tucked the blankets snugly around her thin, trembling body.

“I’ll go get some water,” said Bellamy, and Aaron nodded.

Sally’s eyes blinked open. “A-Aaron…?” She gazed blearily at the person sitting by her bed.

Aaron leaned forward, grasping her hand. “Yes! Yes, it’s me.” His vision shimmered with tears, but he managed to blink them back before they fell. Most of them, anyway. “It’s all right, Sally, it’s me. I’m—I’m _home_.” He could feel himself trembling with relief.            

Her eyes brightened. “Oh, Aaron, it really is you! I thought I’d never get to see you again! I was afraid I’d lost you.” She attempted to sit up and hug Aaron, but he gently pushed her back down onto the mattress.

“Shh, just rest. I’m here now. Everything’s going to be all right. God, I’ve missed you so much. What happened to you?”

“Oh, quite a bit. Soon as I got back to the village, I went into the tavern to find help, but none of the other townspeople would listen to me. Bellamy was the only one who bothered to help. He took me back home, and he and Dr. Angelica cared for me after I fell ill. But they wouldn't believe that you were trapped with the beast, either, so I sneaked out to find you on my own.”

“They took care of you?” Aaron blinked in surprise. This was the first time that the villagers—other than Madison—had performed an act of kindness toward him and his sister.

But it _would_ explain what Bellamy was doing in the Burrs’ house.

Sally nodded. “Yes! I don’t know how I would have survived if it weren’t for them.”

They turned to look at the doorway, where Bellamy—who had excellent timing—was standing. A faint reddish tinge rose in his cheeks when he saw Aaron and Sally staring at him. “I—It—it was nothing,” he said, his voice almost shy. “I was just doing what any decent person would have done.” He busied himself with setting the pitcher on the bedside table and pouring a splash of water into a cup.

“You helped save my sister’s life, Bellamy.” Aaron lightly touched the other man’s elbow. “Thank you.”

“It’s really Dr. Schuyler-Bartow you should be thanking. She did all the hard work.” A slight frown crossed Bellamy’s face as he handed the cup of water to Sally. “But where _did_ you run off to, Sarah? I was so worried when I woke up and found that you were missing.”

Aaron tried to help Sally raise the cup to her lips, but she gently pushed his hand away. She rolled her eyes good-naturedly at Bellamy. “Honestly? I needed to get out of the house for a while. I was tired of all your constant hovering and fussing. I hate to say it, Jonathan, but you can be such a nursemaid sometimes.”

Bellamy let out a chuckle. “Well, I’m just happy you’re safe now. And feeling a bit more like your usual self.” He turned to Aaron with a curious expression. “By the way, Aaron, whe—”

He must have seen something in Aaron’s face, for he broke off with a soft, sympathetic smile. “Welcome home,” he said.

Indeed, Aaron realized that he felt very drained. The excitement of the day—his confusing feelings over Alexander, his anxiety over Sally’s condition—had taken a toll on him. Besides, he doubted that the practical Bellamy would believe his story.

“I’ll give you two some time to yourselves,” said Bellamy. “Now, don’t go running off again, Sarah. It’s important that you stay in bed, and drink—”

“—plenty of fluids. Right, right.”

Aaron smiled. “Don’t worry, Bellamy. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Bellamy grinned before shutting the door behind him.

Sally turned to Aaron with a confused look. “But, Aaron. How on earth did you escape that awful castle?”

“I didn’t escape. Alexander…he let me go.” Aaron felt his smile soften.

Sally’s eyebrows shot up. “That horrible beast?”

“But he’s different now,” Aaron insisted. “He’s…changed, somehow.”

“Changed?” Sally was, needless to say, rather surprised by the fond expression that had overtaken Aaron's face at the mention of Alexander.

Before Aaron could explain further, he heard a rustling noise coming from his pack, as though some small creature were rummaging around inside. He frowned. “What in the…?” The top of the bag flapped open, and the magic mirror fell out, with Philip rolling to a stop on the glass surface.

The teacup hopped up. “Hi!”

“Ah, a stowaway! Why, hello there, Philip,” Sally greeted him. She was very good at remembering names. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Philip turned to Aaron with a questioning look. “Mr. Burr, why’d you go away?” he asked. “Do you not like us anymore? Were you too intimidated by my poetry-writing skills?”

Aaron felt a stab of guilt lance through his chest. “Oh, Philip,” he sighed. “Of course I still like you all. And your poems were a joy to listen to. It’s just that—”

Whatever he was about to say was left unsaid.

In their rush, Bellamy and Aaron had forgotten to lock the door. A series of knocks reverberated through the house before the door crashed open. Aaron could hear Bellamy arguing with someone downstairs. He winced as several loud thuds cut off Bellamy’s protests.

Then a pair of boots could be heard marching up the stairs. At first Aaron was reminded of George, but this person’s gait was different. It was slower, surer, steadier. Quieter.

The steps drew nearer to Sally’s room.

Philip dove under the bed, quivering with fear. Aaron’s blood ran cold. He held tightly to Sally’s hand.

A tense, dramatic pause hung in the air before the door to the bedroom flew open and slammed against the wall.

Thomas Jefferson stood in the doorway, wearing a wicked grin (and an expensive purple velvet suit).

“Hello, Burr.”


	16. 15) March of the Beast Hunters

Aaron could feel dread coiling in the pit of his stomach as soon as he realized what Jefferson had come for. But of course, he was determined not to show it.

“Ah, Jefferson! Welcome!” Aaron managed to paste a nervous smile on his face as he stood up and moved protectively in front of the bed. “How, uh, nice of you to stop by. Perhaps you would like something to drink? How was your trip to Paris? Did you—”

“Save the pleasantries, Burr. I’ve come to collect your sister.” Jefferson stepped aside, and a group of his orderlies barged into the room and shoved Aaron away from his sister. They lifted Sally right out of her bed.

“Sally, no! Let her go!” Aaron ran after them. “Please, don’t do this!”

“Don’t worry about it! We’ll take good care of her,” Jefferson reassured him, but it was not very reassuring. Aaron was painfully aware of how the asylum treated its patients.

As Aaron reached the landing, he noticed Bellamy lying on the floor with a thin trail of blood leaking from his forehead. A jolt of panic spiked through Aaron’s heart. He rushed over to Bellamy’s side, gasping with relief when he felt that the man’s pulse was still pumping.

“What have you done to him?” he demanded.

One of the orderlies shrugged. “I just knocked him out. Serves him right for trying to get in the way.”

Aaron sprang up. He had a sudden urge to fight everyone, which was very uncharacteristic of him. But before he could even move, the sheer force of the moving group of people swept him through the door.

Outside the house, the asylum wagon was waiting—along with a giant crowd of townspeople. Apparently, watching an innocent woman getting dragged off to an asylum was very entertaining to them. Well, it wasn’t like they had anything better to do with their time.

“You can’t take her. My sister’s not crazy!” Aaron pleaded, trying to place himself between the asylum orderlies and the wagon.

“Not crazy? I beg to differ! She was raving like a lunatic about some beast named Hamilton,” Seabury argued, emerging from the crowd of villagers. “We all heard her, didn’t we?”

“Yeah!” the bystanders exclaimed in unison.

“No, I won’t let you do this to her,” Aaron protested. “She’s perfectly sane!”

“’Sane,’ hm?” Seabury smirked. “Mrs. Reeve! Tell us again, just how big was this Hamilton beast?”

Sally struggled against the people holding her. “Well, he was—well, _is_ —enormous! I’d say at least eight or ten feet!”

Mocking laughter erupted from the crowd.

“It’s true!” Sally insisted. She sounded more exasperated than desperate, having been through this sort of situation before.

“Take her away,” Jefferson ordered, and his attendants picked up Sally to put her in the wagon.

“Let go of me!” she yelled. She tried to fight back, but there were too many people holding her, and she was still quite feeble from her illness.

“You can’t do this.” Aaron darted forward, trying to grab Jefferson’s arm.

“Yes, I can, actually,” Jefferson scoffed. “I’m _rich_ , sweetheart. I do what I want.” He shook Aaron off and sauntered away.

Aaron desperately searched the crowd for a friendly face. A flicker of hope ignited in his heart as his gaze landed upon Madison. “James!” He dashed toward his friend. “Oh, James, you believe us, don’t you?”

“I’m afraid I can’t.” Madison drew away from Aaron, his expression neutral. “What they say is true. Your sister…she wasn’t acting like herself the last time I saw her. She was in hysterics, claiming that some monster was holding you captive in a castle.”

“But—”

“Listen. What’s done is done, Burr. There’s no point in trying to stop it. It would probably be in your best interest to just cooperate.” He tried to smile sympathetically, but it wasn’t very convincing. “I _am_ sorry, though. Truly, I am.” He reached out to pat Aaron on the shoulder.

Aaron flinched back as though he’d been slapped. “James, please…”

But Madison just shook his head and walked off to join Jefferson.

“Face it, Burr,” Jefferson cut in, unable to resist making one last jab. “No one’s going to believe the testimony of a deranged woman…or that of a man in a tacky suit.”

George had been watching from the sidelines throughout all of this. He now walked over to Aaron, shaking his head in mock pity. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Poor Burr,” he sighed, his voice dripping with condescension. “You’re all on your own now. And it is _such_ a shame about your sister.”

Aaron whirled on him. So he was behind all of this. Of course. “You know she isn’t crazy, George.”

“Mm. Well, I might be able to clear up this little misunderstanding, if…” He trailed off dramatically.

Aaron was almost afraid to ask. “If what?”

“If you marry me.”

“What?” Aaron’s stomach twisted with disgust.

“Just one little word, Burr. That’s all it takes.”

“Never,” he spat.

“Very well,” George replied with a casual wave of his hand. “Have it your way, then. But don’t come crawling back to me when your sister is rotting in that asylum.” He actually felt disappointed, but he was trying to play hard-to-get.

“Aaron!” Sally cried as the asylum orderlies attempted to shove her into the wagon.

Aaron was about to rush toward her when an idea sprang into his mind. He sprinted into the house; when he ran back out, he was holding the mirror. “Please listen to me! My sister was telling the truth about the beast, and I can prove it.” He held the mirror up for everyone to see. “Show me Alexander!”

There was a flash of brilliant green light, and the mirror’s glass shimmered to life. When the light faded, an image of Alexander’s beastly form was splashed across the mirror’s surface. Unfortunately, Aaron had caught him at a bad time, so Alexander was roaring and tearing through furniture and looking even more fearsome and vicious than he usually did.

The townspeople gaped at the beast in horror. Shocked murmurs and exclamations swept through the crowd.

“A creature of the devil!” Seabury gasped, brandishing a rosary.

“Is it dangerous?” someone screamed.

“Oh, no! No, Alexander would never hurt anyone,” Aaron reassured the panicked townspeople, holding his hands out in a placating manner. “He may come off as aggressive, and he does like to rant and argue quite a bit, but beneath all of that, he really is a good person! He’s kind and clever and noble—he used to be a prince, in fact.”

“And yet he dresses like fake royalty,” Jefferson muttered.

Aaron ignored the quip. “And above all, he…he’s my friend,” he added fondly. The confession surprised him, but he knew it to be true.

The word “prince” had sparked something inside of George’s mind, but he pushed the idea to the side…for now. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you actually had feelings for this monster,” he sneered at Aaron. He was repulsed by the idea of Aaron having feelings for anyone other than him—let alone for a literal beast.

Aaron’s anger flared. His temper—which was usually so easy to keep under control—had reached its boiling point. “He’s not the monster, George,” he snapped. “ _You_ are!”

Everyone gasped.

“Whaaaat?” Jefferson exclaimed. Even he was shocked by Aaron’s display of boldness. None of the villagers had ever before witnessed Aaron expressing a very strong opinion against someone, let alone against a person they held in high regard. Today just kept getting stranger and stranger.

“He’s just as crazy as his sister!” George snatched the mirror from Aaron’s hand. “I’ve hunted wild beasts like this one, and I’ve seen what they can do! This wretched thing is a threat to our very _existence_!”

“The vicious monster will spread chaos and bloodshed among us!” Seabury cried, trying to back George up.

Incited, the rest of the mob broke out into angry, fearful shouts.

“He’ll wreak havoc on our village!”

“He’ll come stalking us at night!”

“He’ll murder us in our beds!”

“He’ll devour our children!”

“He’ll get into petty arguments with people and shove his opinions down our throats!”

“None of us are safe until this beast is as good as dead!” George declared, shoving his way to the front of the crowd. “It’s time for us to take some action, men. I say we kill the beast!”

The mob cheered and broke into a chant of “Kill the beast! Kill the beast!” They were very bloodthirsty villagers, it would seem.

“Why are you doing this?” Aaron demanded of George.

“I’m doing this for _us_ , Burr. That hideous beast clearly has you under a spell of some sort, deluding you into thinking you’re in love with him. But once I slay the monster, we’ll all be free from his threat. Think of this as a…reminder of my love.” George smiled evilly, delighted by the look of terror that crossed Aaron’s face. “Oh, don’t look so sad. I’ll bring back the beast’s severed head for you as a gift.”

“No. You—you’re wrong. You won’t get away with this. I won’t let you kill him!”

“Really! And how do you intend to stop me?”

Aaron’s voice shook. “Retrieve your pistol, and I’ll show you.”

A heavy silence fell over the crowd as the significance of Aaron’s challenge sank in. For several moments, Aaron could hear nothing but the sound of his own heartbeat thundering in his chest.

The silence was shattered as George burst out laughing. The townspeople tentatively joined in.

“You’re joking! Oh, you can’t possibly be serious. You’re actually going to risk your life to defend that _creature’s_ honor?” he sneered. “Who do you suppose will be your second? Your sister? No one else in this village is insane enough to support you.” He shot a look at the crowd, and the people in the front slowly backed away. “And this is, what, your first duel? Believe me, you’ll be dead within the first few seconds.”

Aaron’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You underestimate me.”

“Do I? You may have grown some…semblance of a spine, but do you really believe you’ll be able to pull the trigger when the time comes? I _know_ you, Burr. You’re too weak, too passive. You barely have enough courage to raise your voice against someone. Look at you now! Trembling so hard, you can hardly even stand up.”

It happened in a blur. Aaron’s fist shot out, quick as a bullet, and landed on the other man’s jaw with a crack. George stumbled backward, and Aaron himself recoiled from the force of the blow. His knuckles burned with pain.

If Aaron’s reputation had been unfavorable before, it was probably demolished now. Unsalvageable. But that was the last thing on his mind.

“Clearly,” Aaron panted, struggling to regain his breath, “Clearly you don’t know a damned thing about me.”

George stared at him for a few heartbeats, clutching his bruised jaw. There was a strange—almost feral—gleam in his eyes.

When he finally spoke, his voice was dangerously low. “You’ve gone positively mad,” he said, his wolfish grin stained red with blood. He gestured to the asylum orderlies. “Seize him.”

Sally wrested her arm out of her captor’s grasp. “Get your hands off of my brother! Let go of us!”

“Throw them into the basement,” George ordered. “I think it’s quite clear what the situation is. The beast’s wicked influence has rendered this man a danger to both himself and to others.”

As Aaron and Sally were both quite slight, they were tossed into the basement without much trouble. One of Jefferson’s more observant attendants came darting out of the house with a key, which she had found hanging from the wall and labeled “Basement Key” for their convenience (Sally had an entire collection of keys, so she didn’t want to get them mixed up). She handed it to George, who locked the door tightly.

“Let us out!” Aaron cried, banging his fist against the door.

“Sorry, Burr!” George called, not sounding very sorry at all. He tucked the key into his pocket. “We can’t have you running off to warn the beast now, can we? But don’t worry. I’ll be back to deal with you soon enough.” He turned to the angry villagers, who seemed to have recovered from their initial shock. “We’ll rid the village of this beast once and for all. Who’s with me?”

A chorus of “I am!”s rose from the mob.

Torches, pitchforks, and a variety of weaponry were passed around. There was an entire storehouse full of them, conveniently prepared for such occasions as invading a haunted castle. Lee even passed around some stale baguettes (which, depending on the strength of the user, could prove to be surprisingly effective as weapons).

“Screw your courage to the sticking place!” George commanded as he led the way through the town. “We’ll lay siege to the castle and won’t return until the beast’s threat has been eliminated. Destroy anyone or anything that gets in the way, but remember: Hamilton is _mine_!”


	17. 16) The Continental Army of Household Objects

Inside the house, Bellamy was slowly but surely regaining consciousness.

The last thing he remembered was hearing the door slam open and running over to see Jefferson barging in, backed up by a group of intimidating-looking men and women. Bellamy had tried to stop them, to convince them that Sally was sane and was still recovering from her illness, but two of Jefferson’s men had overpowered him and knocked him out cold.

And that was that. Until now.

He awoke to a silent house—such a stark contrast to what it had been while he was still conscious.

“Sarah? Aaron?” he called out as he struggled to rise. “Anyone?” He received no response, so he carefully ascended the stairs.

Upon entering the bedroom, he nearly stepped on a small, pale creature that was scurrying past his feet.

“Aah! Watch it!” he heard the creature scream.

Bellamy looked down, thinking it was—actually, he had no idea _what_ it could be. But he looked down. And it was...a teacup?

The teacup—for that was what it was, apparently—stared back up at him. It had the face of a child. “Who are you? Are you Mr. Burr’s friend?”

Bellamy blinked. _Oh, dear. My head must have been hit harder than I thought. Either that, or teacups have recently gained the ability to speak…_ “I—uh—yes. I’m Bellamy,” he managed to stammer out.

The uncertainty in the teacup’s face switched to a look of determination. “Oh, good. Come on, we have to go save them! Give me a lift!”

Bellamy still felt rather confused about what the hell was going on, but there was no time to lose. He allowed the teacup to hop onto his palm and carried it downstairs with him.

“I’m Philip, by the way!” Philip said cheerfully.

“Pleased to meet you, Philip,” Bellamy replied, just to be polite. _I’m talking to a teacup…that’s perfectly normal, right?_ “And you, uh, know what happened to Aaron and Sally?”

“I don’t know where they went, exactly. But I do know that this evil purple man came in with his minions and took them away!” Philip paused. “Do you hear that?”

Bellamy stopped in his tracks. There was a muffled thumping sound coming from beneath them. “The basement,” he gasped. He flew outside the front door, nearly dropping Philip in his haste.

-

Aaron, after unsuccessfully trying to pry open the window with a stick, was throwing himself at the door in an attempt to open it. He cried out in frustration when it wouldn’t give way.

Sally raced over to him. “Aaron, stop! You’ll hurt yourself.” She laid a gentle hand on his arm.

“But I have to warn Alexander! This is all my fault.” He slumped to the ground, covering his face with his hands. “I shouldn’t have showed them the mirror.”

“It is _not_ your fault. God, Aaron, if only I’d known how that horrible man spoke to you!” She shook her head. “Why, I could—I could strangle him! If it were legal, that is.”

“I’d rather not talk about that.” Aaron sighed. “Oh, Sally. What are we going to do?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll think of something, Aaron.” Sally patted his arm comfortingly.

A familiar voice could be heard outside the door of the basement. “Hello? Is someone in there?”

Aaron jumped to his feet. “Yes! Bellamy! We’re in here!”

“Thank god! Are you two all right?”

“Yes, but we need to hurry! They’re going to kill Alexander!”

Bellamy struggled to open the door, but it was securely fastened. “I can’t get it open. Do you know where the key is?”

“George probably took it,” Aaron reasoned. “Anyone know how to pick a lock?”

Bellamy glanced at Philip, who shook his head. “No…we need something to cut through the door.”

“Cut through the…wait a minute,” Sally said suddenly. The gears in her head were beginning to spin. “I’ve got an idea! Bellamy, you wouldn’t have happened to stumble upon a big lump of a machine somewhere on our estate, have you?”

“Come to think of it, I did see a contraption of some sort out in the field nearby. It had this giant axe attached to it, though, so I was…uh, hesitant to move it.”

“Ah, perfect! It’s my wood-cutting invention. Now, here’s what you’re going to do…” Sally quickly briefed Bellamy on how to handle the machine.

-

Back at the castle, everyone was oblivious to the mob of bloodthirsty villagers headed straight for them.

“I knew it,” Washington muttered. “I knew we were foolish to get our hopes up.”

“Perhaps it would have been better if he had never come at all,” Lafayette agreed miserably.

Vulcan ran into the room, barking at the window. The objects rushed over to look out, their eyes alight with hope.

“Could it be?” Lafayette asked.

“Is it he?” Eliza whispered.

“Nope,” said Laurens. “We’re being ambushed by an angry mob. They even have torches and pitchforks and...uh, are those baguettes?”

A gasp arose from the objects.

Washington, however, was not to be daunted. He immediately began issuing orders to the other objects. “Warn Hamilton! Block off the door!” he commanded. “If it’s a fight they want, it’s a fight they’ll get. We’ll be ready for them!”

Lafayette grinned. “Washington is right! These cowards cannot hold a candle to us!”

“Now get to it!”

“Yes, sir!” The castle staff saluted and hurried off to find more furniture to blockade the front door.

Eliza took on the task of warning Alexander. After making a rather arduous journey up the staircase, she found him brooding in the West Wing. He sat slumped on the floor, filled with angst.

The sight of a vicious mob would have normally sent fire and adrenaline coursing through Alexander’s veins, but now? He could only feel tired, defeated. He had envisioned his death so many times that the thought of it felt more like a memory than a vision. And now it was here to finally claim him. A bit of a violent way to go, but he _had_ always dreamed of going out with a bang, so to speak.

“Alexander!” Eliza called out.

Alexander didn’t look up. “Please leave me alone, Eliza.”

Eliza frowned. She hadn't gone up all those stairs just to be dismissed. “But the castle is under siege! What should we do?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. Just let them come.” He stared forlornly at the wilting rose, at the shriveled petals that lay on the table like fallen corpses. “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day…to the last syllable of recorded time…”

“For heaven’s sake, Alexander.” Eliza, for all her gentleness, was by no means a pushover. Although she was made of porcelain, her eyes grew as sharp as steel. “This is no time to just sit there and quote Shakespeare! Our castle is _under attack_. We need your help.”

“But don’t you see? It’s _me_ they want. And what does it matter if I’m dead? I’m ruined.”

Eliza hopped closer to him. “ _Please,_ Alexander.”

“I can’t. Just—just hide yourselves, okay? They won’t attack normal-looking furniture and household objects…it’s the beast they’re really after.” He released a heavy, despondent sigh. “It’ll all be over soon…” he murmured.

Eliza softened as she regarded Alexander.  She felt shocked, frustrated, no doubt—but she understood. “Then I’ll fight for us,” she said quietly. She turned and dashed back downstairs. Alexander may have abandoned all hope, but Eliza refused to give up on their castle that easily.

The objects had attempted to construct a barricade out of both themselves and the non-sentient furniture. However, one should never underestimate the power of an angry mob. The door was beginning to give out beneath the force of the townspeople’s battering ram.

“Kill the beast! Kill the beast! Kill the beast!” the villagers chanted as they tried to bash in the door.

“It’s not working!” Lafayette cried.

“What should we do? We have to think of _something_!” Peggy’s eyes were wide with panic.

“Remain calm, everyone!” Washington announced. He rode into the room on Vulcan’s back as though the footstool were a noble steed. He was even wearing his old black tricorn; the hat had shrunk in the wash, so it now fit him perfectly. The former general looked the very picture of honor and dignity—at least, as much as he _could_ , now that he was a clock.

Everyone turned to look at him, their eyes glistening with admiration.

“Gather up every ounce of courage you can muster,” Washington ordered. He lifted a pair of scissors in the air so that they gleamed in the light like a polished sword. “I have a new strategy!”

-

The mob finally succeeding in breaking in. As soon as the door burst open, the townspeople flooded into the grand entrance, which was dark and seemingly devoid of life. They carefully crept through the foyer, noticing that the room was filled with a large assortment of furniture, teacups, candlesticks, feather dusters, and clocks. Seabury picked up one of the candelabras to use as a light source.

Unfortunately for him, the candelabra was Lafayette.

“Charge!” Lafayette shouted.

The objects sprang to life and proceeded to launch their attack on their human enemies. It was, without a doubt, one of the strangest battles in history to date.

Lafayette, Laurens, and Hercules were probably the most enthusiastic of the fighters. They threw themselves into the fray with a loud whoop. Laurens got into (one-sided) fistfights with people, Lafayette shot flames at his attackers, and Hercules, using his drawers, punched the lights out of anyone who was foolish enough to get too close to him.

James Reynolds was rolled up in a carpet, and a wooden chest named Henry Knox literally ate the man. In Knox’s defense, he was very hungry. 

The mugs threw tomatoes at the humans’ faces. Monroe attempted to hit them with a shovel, but Eliza and her children poured scalding hot tea on him.

At one point, Lee somehow got trapped inside of Hercules. When he popped back out, he was wearing a neon pink, polka-dotted coat with yellow horse-patterned breeches (which Hercules had designed in a burst of drunk inspiration). Having no appreciation for avant-garde fashion, Lee took one look at the hideous suit and ran off, screaming in terror.

Seabury cornered Lafayette against a wall and tried to melt him with his torch. Thankfully, Washington was there to rush to the candelabra’s rescue. He slid down the banister on horseback (footstoolback, in this case) with his very sharp pair of scissors. The blade hit Seabury right on the backside. It was quite painful, as you can imagine.

Lafayette gave Washington a kiss as a token of his appreciation, which brought a sheepish smile to the clock’s face. 

Peggy, feeling mischievous, made off with someone’s hat. Several of the angry villagers followed her into the kitchen and trapped the feather duster against the drawers. They were promptly frightened off by a protective Mr. Schuyler, who flamed up at the men with a fearsome roar.

“Retreat! Retreat!” one of the humans—probably Lee—yelled. “There’s too many of them!”

The objects’ fallen foes fled the castle, some running, some limping, and some crawling.

Once the last few humans had trickled out the door, the castle inhabitants celebrated their victory.

“Freedom!” Lafayette crowed, and Laurens popped open a bottle of champagne that he’d gotten from the kitchen.

“Raise a glass!” the coatrack shouted. “We won!”

The objects burst into cheers. “We won! We won!”

But alas. They had not won just yet.

Unbeknownst to them, there was still one more human prowling around their castle, and he had no intention of giving up.


	18. 17) Still Our Song Lives On

“I hope this works,” Bellamy said as he stared at Sally’s giant wood-chopping invention.

“It has to!” Philip bounced up and down, filled to the brim with anxiety. “There’s the red lever on the back.”

Bellamy gave the lever a gentle tug. He leaped back as the machine roared to life, shooting out steam. The axe chopped away at the empty air as though it were hungry for more wood.

“Incredible,” Bellamy murmured, his eyes widening at the sight.

“And there’s the lever that makes it go.”

A few moments later, the machine was rolling out of the field and hurtling toward the basement. It crashed through the heavy door, which exploded in a cloud of wooden splinters and red smoke.  Aaron and Sally emerged from the wreckage to join Bellamy and Philip.

“Thank you, Bellamy!” Sally rushed over to him, but she stopped dead when she saw the wound on his head. “Oh, no…you’re hurt.” She gingerly touched her fingertips to his swollen face.

Bellamy winced, laughing nervously. “Oh—yes, I suppose so. Jefferson’s helpers really put up a fight.”

“Don't worry about it. I'll have you fixed up in no time.” She guided him toward the front of the house.

Aaron knelt and helped Philip to hop into his hand. “You two can stay here. I've got to get back to the castle,” he said urgently, starting towards the stable.

“What?” Sally looked up in surprise. “Aaron, no! It's too dangerous to go alone!”

“I have to, Sally. Alex needs me. If I don’t get there fast enough, they'll—they’ll…” He shook his head. “I've got to stop them.”

Something in Sally’s heart changed as she gazed at her brother. Aaron was no longer that quiet, passive boy she had once known—the one who hid behind his books and his daydreams, the one who tried so hard to conceal his true emotions. No, he was someone else entirely. The day’s astonishing events had proven as much.

She stepped forward to place a firm hand on his shoulder. “You're a strong man, Aaron. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise,” she whispered fiercely. “Our parents would be proud of you. You know that, right?”

Aaron’s eyes glistened. “I do.”

“Just promise me one thing.” Her dark eyes stared hard into his. “Promise me that you'll come back safely.”

“I promise. I lost you once; I’m not going to lose you again.”

Sally released him, and Aaron carefully tucked Philip away into his coat pocket.

“Right.” Sally nodded to him, smiling. “Go save the day, little brother.”

Aaron looked toward the strange-looking mountain in the distance. His face was set in an expression of grim determination.

 _Don’t worry, Alexander. I’ll be there soon_.

-

George had slipped away from the rest of the mob sometime in the middle of the battle. He had only one goal in mind, and that was, of course, to hunt down the beast.

However, vanquishing Alexander was not his sole intention. Aaron’s words lingered in his mind—how Alexander had once been a prince. The words had awoken in him a new desire: a hunger for power. The beast apparently had been removed from his position somehow, as his authority over the province was no longer in effect. But if George played his cards right, perhaps he would be able to usurp the throne for himself…

But above all, what he truly desired was to get revenge on Aaron for rejecting him and punching him in the face.

He stalked down the corridors in search of Alexander, kicking down doors and creating a general ruckus. The word “subtlety” meant nothing to him.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” he sing-songed, giddy with bloodlust and the thrill of the hunt. “There’s no need to hide from me!”

After a few more minutes of theatrically flinging open doors, George finally stormed into the West Wing. Alexander was crouching on the floor, hunched over and gazing miserably out at the rain. George’s face twisted into a malevolent grin as he moved in for the kill.

Alexander could see George approaching, but he did nothing to stop him as George loaded his rifle. He was Macbeth, and this was his final battle. The enemy forces had laid siege to his castle. The end was drawing near. All he had left to do was to await his beheading…

“Hello, beast!” George announced, interrupting Alexander’s brooding thoughts. “Terribly sorry to intrude. I’m George King the Third.”

“And I don’t care,” said Alexander. “Let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

“Well! If you insist.” George gleefully took aim with the rifle.

A sound like thunder rang out as two bullets struck Alexander in the shoulder, sending a lightning bolt of pain through his side. He let out an agonized gasp and tried to stand up, but another bullet burst through his leg in a flash of searing heat. George rushed him, sending them both flying out the window onto the balcony.

“Ha ha ha ha ha!” George cackled. He always got a kick out of attacking defenseless creatures. He cornered Alexander on the edge of the roof, but Alexander simply sat there in silence.

“Get up! What’s the matter, Hamilton? Too cowardly to fight back?” he sneered. “I don’t blame you. I have a tendency to strike fear into the hearts of all the beasts that look upon me. Ah, but worry not. I’ll soon put you out of your misery…unless, of course, you’re willing to comply with my rules.”

“What rules?” Alexander questioned, apprehensive.

George smirked. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I can choose to let you live, but only under one condition: you hand over the castle and give me the crown.”

“Actually, those are two conditions, not one.”

“Shut up,” George snapped. “So, Prince Hamilton, what’ll it be? Will you peacefully relinquish your title, or would you rather be brutally shot to death? I must say, your decapitated head would make a lovely addition to my collection.”

Although Alexander was—as stated several times before—an asshole, he really did care about the state of his kingdom and the people in it. And he wasn’t so thickheaded that he didn’t know the repercussions of leaving a kingdom at the mercy of some murderous tyrant. If he wasn’t going to fight for himself, then so be it. He would spend the last of his strength fighting to defend the people in the kingdom.

“Like hell I’ll submit to your rules,” Alexander spat, struggling to rise to his feet. “You must be out of your _goddamned_ mind if you think you can just take over this kingdom!”

George shrugged. “Very well. I really didn’t want to have to do this, but I’m afraid you’ve left me with no choice.” He lifted his gun, aiming for the beast’s heart.

_“Wait!”_

A desperate scream tore through the air, rising above the sound of the falling rain. Alexander turned to see Aaron racing toward the castle on horseback.

“Aaron,” Alexander whispered, his eyes brightening with hope. The sound of Aaron’s voice seemed to have given him new life. A shot of adrenaline surged through his veins, lending him power and energy.

“Let him go, George!” Aaron shouted.

“Why, Burr! How nice of you to join us. You’re a little late to the party, though, aren’t you?” He was about to pull the trigger when Alexander, taking advantage of George’s distraction, lunged forward suddenly and yanked the weapon from his hand.

“Let’s go, William!” Aaron galloped toward the castle. As soon as he slid off William’s back, he burst through the front door and flew up the staircase.

George and Alexander proceeded to fight on the rooftop. Somehow, George managed to wrest his gun out of the beast’s grip amid the confusion. Alexander took a hiding place among the gargoyles, shrouding himself in the darkness.

“Come on out and fight!” George stalked past him. “Were you in love with him, beast? Did you honestly think he’d want a boorish cretin like you when he had _me_ , someone with a British accent?”

“Oh, for god’s sake.” Alexander was growing rather tired of listening to the man’s irritating voice. The fact that he was insulting Alexander’s ego certainly did not make things any better. Alexander emerged from his hiding place, ready to inflict some damage.

“There you are!” George laughed evilly. “It’s over, beast! The throne is mine!”

This time, however, Alexander had some of his old self back. His paw shot out, and he picked George up by the throat and dangled him over the dark chasm below. The gun fell from George’s hand and clattered uselessly against the ground.

“Any last words, Your Majesty?” Alexander inquired.

George panicked, as his plan was not working out very well. “No! I haven’t thought of any good ones yet!” he cried. “Please don’t kill me! I’ll do anything. _Anything_!”

The rage slowly melted off of Alexander’s face as he listened to George’s pleas. He released a heavy sigh, and his claws loosened their grip on the man’s throat. As vicious as Alexander could be, he didn’t have a heart made of stone. Besides, this coward wasn’t worth his time. He pulled George back onto the roof and shoved him to the ground.

“Get out of here,” he growled. “If I ever see your face here again, I won’t be so merciful.”

George needed no further warning. He hastily skittered out of sight.

Alexander had a feeling that he would regret letting the man go, but the feeling vanished as Aaron’s face appeared above him.   

Aaron had rushed out onto a balcony. “Alexander!” he called, leaning over the balustrade.

“Aaron!” Ignoring the pain shooting through his shoulder and leg, Alexander climbed up the tower until he reached the balcony. “Aaron, you came back.”

“Quick, climb up!”

Aaron reached down to help Alexander over the railing, but it was too late. George, who had sneaked up behind Alexander, plunged his hunting knife into the beast’s back. A roar of pain tore from Alexander’s chest.

“No!” Aaron screamed.

A manic grin contorted George’s features as he wrenched the knife from Alexander’s back. “Ha! Fools!” he crowed. “You can’t get rid of me that easily!” He was about to swing back for another hit when Alexander fell back, knocking him off balance.

Aaron lunged forward to catch Alexander just in time. George, on the other hand, was not so lucky. His boot skidded on the rain-slick roof tile, causing him to lurch backwards. With a scream, he tumbled off the edge of the roof and plummeted into the shadows below until he was swallowed up by the darkness…never to be seen again.

Alexander lay bleeding out on the floor of the balcony. Rain was pouring from the heavens, but a little fall of rain could hardly hurt him now. Aaron sat beside him, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

The objects appeared in the entryway of the balcony. They stopped dead, their eyes wide with horror, when they saw Alexander’s limp body, but neither Aaron nor Alexander seemed to notice them.

“You came back,” Alexander whispered.

A few of Aaron’s tears fell, but he pretended they were raindrops. “Of course I came back. I couldn’t let them—oh, this is all my fault. If only I’d gotten here sooner!”

“Maybe it’s better this way.” Alexander coughed weakly. The fire that had once blazed so fiercely in his eyes was growing dim. “Out, out, brief candle…”

“No. Don’t talk like that.” Aaron grasped Alexander’s hand. “You’ll be all right. We’re together now. Everything is going to be fine. You’ll see.”

Alexander gazed at him passionately. “At least yours will be the last face I ever see. A fitting end to this tragedy.”

Aaron’s tears were flowing freely now. “There was the poetry,” he murmured, stroking Alexander’s cheek.

Alexander tried to smile. “I’ll see you on the other side…” His voice faltered and broke.

The brightness faded from his eyes. His head lolled back, his eyelids fluttered shut, and everything was still.

“Alex?” Aaron whispered. “Oh no. No… _no_. Please don’t leave me! Please, I can’t lose you, not you too…” He flung himself across Alexander’s lifeless form. “Please…” Quiet sobs racked through his body. “I…I love you.”

As the last three words left his lips, the lone remaining petal fell from the rose. The golden glow dissolved into the darkness, and the flower wilted.

The objects all looked at the floor dejectedly. Laurens’ head drooped onto Hercules’ shoulder. Eliza fought back tears. Even Lafayette’s flames went out, and Washington patted his back in an attempt to comfort him.

For a few moments, time itself seemed to be frozen. Only the soft sounds of Aaron’s weeping permeated the heavy silence.

Just then—when all hope seemed to have disappeared—a radiant beam of light fell from the sky. Another one streaked through the darkness like a shooting star, followed by two more. Soon, the entire balcony was flooded with gold.

Aaron looked up, startled. He flinched at the bright light and backed away from Alexander.

A fog had begun to enshroud Alexander’s body. He floated up into the air and was enveloped in a cloud of shimmering light.

Aaron and the objects stared up at him in awe. A transformation of some sort was taking place. Ribbons of light wove around Alexander’s body, which appeared to be shifting—the forepaws morphed into hands, the hind paws into feet, and the hair covering his face melted away to reveal a human face with a short black beard.    

Ensconced in his cloak, Alexander gradually descended from the sky until he was laid to rest on the floor again.

Mystified, Aaron timidly crept over to him. “A-Alexander?” He reached out to touch the cloaked figure with a trembling hand, but he quickly jerked back when the person underneath the cloth began to move. He noticed that Alexander seemed a lot smaller than he was previously. And sure enough, when he drew himself up to his full height, he was nearly as short and slender as Aaron was.

He turned to face Aaron, who gasped.

It was the face of the man in the portrait.

“Aaron, it’s me!” the man— _Alexander_ —cried. His voice was filled with incredulity, as if he himself couldn’t believe it.

Aaron stared at him, thunderstruck. “It—it is you,” he whispered. “Alex, it _is_ you!” Unable to contain his excitement any longer, he threw himself into Alexander’s arms.

With a gleeful laugh, Alexander swept Aaron off the ground and playfully swung him around. And nearly toppled over, since he and Aaron were both about the same size.

Meanwhile, the gloom surrounding the palace melted away to reveal the castle’s true appearance in all of its resplendent glory. The dreary gray walls became a glowing alabaster-white, and golden angels and nymphs took the place of the snarling gargoyles that perched upon the ledges. The storm clouds dissolved like mist in the sunlight to unveil a brilliant blue sky. Bursts of gold glitter—remnants of the magic that had helped to return everything to its former state—exploded across the sky like fireworks. 

The objects scampered over to meet Aaron and Alexander. One by one, each of them reverted back to their original human form.

Alexander’s eyes widened when he caught sight of his friends.

“Laf! John! Herc! Eliza!” he exclaimed, rushing forward to greet them. “Oh, Washington! Look at all of you!”

“It is a miracle!” Lafayette cried as he looked down at his hands, which were no longer candles.  

Laurens grinned, flexing his arms. “Damn, we look good.”

“It is rather nice to be human again,” admitted Washington, who was still wearing his tricorn. The hat was now too small for his head, but he was happy, at least.

“Aww.” Hercules wiped away a tear. “Bring it in, everyone!” He pulled all of them—even a shocked Washington—up into an enormous embrace.

Aaron stood apart from the group, but he wore a gentle smile on his face as he watched them huddle together.

Hercules, sensing that someone was missing from the group, looked up to see Aaron standing off to the side. Hercules grinned and motioned for him to join them. Aaron was about to politely decline, but then he shrugged as if to say _Ah, why the hell not?_ and awkwardly squeezed into the group hug. He could barely breathe, and yet he couldn’t deny that he loved it—the feeling of having friends who cared for him. The feeling that he _belonged_.

“Mama! Mama!” Eliza’s teacups came running in, with Philip riding on Vulcan’s back. The cups quickly transformed into human children, and the footstool was replaced by an energetic hound dog.

“Oh my goodness!” Eliza split away from the group. Her children leaped into her arms and covered her face with kisses. “Oh, my babies. I’ve missed you all so much!”

The rest of the group broke apart. Laurens, Lafayette, and Hercules chatted excitedly with each other, and Vulcan the dog jumped up to lick Washington’s face.

Aaron felt a hand slip into his. He looked up to see Alexander smiling at him. Alexander raised Aaron’s hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it.

“Thank you, Aaron,” he said tenderly. “For…everything.”

“Alexander, I—” Aaron was suddenly overcome by a new feeling. It was bright and warm and comforting, and it burned within him like a star. He felt as though fireworks were going off in his mind (which probably had something to do with the fact that there were, in fact, fireworks going off in the sky at that moment).

His lips curled into a smile. “You know,” he said, gazing into the dark brown eyes with which he had become so enamored, “your portrait doesn’t quite do you justice, does it?”

“Aaron…” Alexander breathed. But he did not say anything more. He didn’t need to.

Neither of them was certain who initiated it. Neither of them was even certain how or when it started, exactly. But before they knew it, the distance between them had melted away and they crashed together into a passionate kiss. And it was every bit as sweet and beautiful and exhilarating as each of them had hoped.

Aaron’s heart soared. He was home at last.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're almost done! only one more chapter (the epilogue) to go! :o


	19. Finale

The next day, a huge celebration was prepared for the breaking of the curse.

Everyone was gathered in the ballroom that night, feasting on Mr. Schuyler’s culinary creations (except for Henry Knox, who claimed he couldn’t eat a single bite) and conversing amicably with each other. Eliza and Philip sat at the grand piano, performing a lovely, lighthearted duet. Eliza’s other children chased each other around the room and surreptitiously fed strips of meat to Vulcan.

Sally, meanwhile, had acquainted herself with Peggy; the younger woman was listening to Sally’s discourse on science and technology with genuine enthusiasm and curiosity. Bellamy had fallen in quite easily with Hercules and Laurens. The latter two were especially charmed by Bellamy’s sweet, earnest nature, and Bellamy was taken with Hercules’ easy confidence and the sprinkling of freckles across Laurens’ face.

Aaron and Alexander stood in the center of it all, cheerfully greeting guests and looking very radiant in their jewel-toned suits—Alexander in vibrant emerald and Aaron in deep sapphire. Initially, Aaron had been worried that he would feel overwhelmed by the thick crowd, but Alexander held his hand comfortably in his and didn’t let go once.

“Ah, l’amour…” Lafayette murmured to himself as he leaned idly against a marble pillar, observing the blissful scene before him.

“Lafayette!” a voice called out from behind him, and he turned to see Washington smiling at him.

“Good work defending the castle yesterday, Gilbert,” said Washington, clapping him on the shoulder. “The odds against us may have been great, but your courage was remarkable. I hope that we will be able to fight side-by-side in the future, if the opportunity ever arises. It was an _honor_ battling alongside you.”

“Aww, George!” Lafayette beamed. “That is such a compliment, coming from you! Oh, come here, let me give you a hug.”

“Oh no, that won't really be necessary—well, all right,” he conceded, and the delighted Frenchman leaped into his arms.

“If I ever have a son, I shall name him after you, mon ami. Georges Washington Louis Gilbert. A very noble-sounding name, no?”

Washington chuckled. “Indeed.”

The Schuyler-Bartow couple had received an invitation to the celebration as well. The two of them swept gracefully into the ballroom hand-in-hand, marveling at the ballroom’s architectural beauty: the grand marble columns, the gilded chandeliers, the frescoed ceiling.

Eliza abruptly paused in her playing as she caught a glimpse of her sister’s familiar blush-pink gown. She rose from the piano bench, her eyes wide. “A-Angelica?” she whispered. She took a hesitant step forward. “Angelica!”

Peggy’s plate of lemon cake clattered to the floor. “Angie!” With a squeal, she ran over to fling herself at her sister. Eliza picked up her skirts and hurried after Peggy.

Angelica could only stare at them in shock. “Peggy? Eliza? Is—is that you?” Her voice trembled. “You’re alive?”

“Yes!” Eliza gasped. “Angelica, we _are_ here, it is us! It isn’t just a dream, truly it isn’t.”

“And Papa is here too!” Peggy cried as Mr. Schuyler came stumbling over.

“Oh…” Angelica brushed back errant strands of hair from her sisters’ faces. Her eyes welled up with tears, and a smile slowly made its way across her face. She shook her head in disbelief. “I…I can’t…You’re both…” For once in her life, she found herself unable to articulate how she felt. She threw her arms around Eliza and Peggy, who both squeezed her tightly. All three of them crumpled to the floor as tears of joy streamed down their faces. The Schuyler sisters were reunited at last.

Mr. Schuyler attempted to fight back his own tears, but he quickly broke down weeping and gathered his daughters into a hug. Eliza’s children excitedly flocked around them to greet their Aunt Angelica.

Aaron felt a smile slip over his face as he watched them.

“Ah—sir? I mean, Your Majesty?”

He looked up to see Theodosia curtsying to him.

“Mrs. Schuyler-Bartow! Welcome.” Aaron shook her hand warmly.

“I would like to offer you an apology. I’m afraid I may have misjudged you in the past,” said Theodosia. “I heard about how you stood up to Mr. King the other day. Not many people can boast of that.” She and Angelica had not taken part in the villagers’ raid of the castle (and neither of them, quite frankly, held any sympathy in their hearts for George). “What you did was very brave. A bit rash, perhaps, but he _did_ deserve what he got, if I may say so.” Her eyes sparkled.

Aaron inclined his head. “There’s no need to apologize, really. Speaking from my own experience, I think all of us are guilty of misjudging people at some point in our lives,” he replied, smiling humbly. “And please, you can just call me Aaron. I’m not actually in a position of royalty.”

“Very well, Aaron.” She smiled back at him. “You may simply call me Theo.”

-

The festivities continued well into the night, but as vibrant and exhilarating as the celebration was, Aaron was too often distracted by thoughts of Alexander and how he had changed.

The man who stood beside Aaron was slightly calmer and more refined than he had once been, but he was still the Alexander whom Aaron had grown to love. He had no trouble at all speaking his mind, and Aaron couldn’t help but admire the passion with which he discussed the numerous reforms he would introduce to the kingdom—among them a central bank and a new voting system.

Yet for all of his rambling, he seemed quite open— _eager_ , even—to listen to Aaron’s input as well. Of course, they didn’t share identical opinions on governing, but Alexander was all too happy to engage in debate. And Aaron didn’t miss the gleam of admiration in the other man’s eyes whenever Aaron expressed his own ideas.

Eventually, the two of them retreated to the side of the ballroom for some time to themselves. Once they were alone, Alexander turned to face Aaron, his eyes shining with such fondness and affection that Aaron could feel his heart swell with love.

“Have I told you I’m in love with you?” Alexander asked, pressing a feather-light kiss to Aaron’s knuckles.

“Only about five times. But I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

Alexander laughed. “Good. Because I am _madly_ in love with you.”

“And I you,” Aaron murmured, his voice soft. He paused for a moment in thought. “You know,” he said, “I read a fairytale like this, once. About a man who falls deeply in love with a prince in disguise.”

“Is that so? Must make for a very compelling read.”

“Oh, it is. You should read it sometime. The events of the story are very trying for the heroes, and there are moments when it seems as though all hope is lost, but I daresay that it’s all worth it in the end.”

“So what happens to them in the end? The hero and his prince?”

Aaron let out a low chuckle. “Why don’t we find out?” He slipped a firm yet gentle arm around Alexander’s waist, and Alexander, unable to hide his grin, pulled Aaron in for a tender kiss.

And indeed, we can rest assured that our heroes all lived—as the old, oft-quoted saying goes—happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we’re done! thank you so much for reading this! an even bigger thank you to all the people who took the time to comment – i honestly don’t know how i would’ve finished this without you. y'all are amazing ♥
> 
> check out my [tumblr](http://aaronnburr.tumblr.com/) if you’d like!


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